Division  S 4 1 3 


. F45 


Section 


I 


INDIA’S  SILENT  REVOLUTION 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  • BOSTON  • CHICAGO  • DALLAS 
ATLANTA  • SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  & CO.,  Limited 

LONDON  • BOMBAY  * CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


INDIA’S 

SILENT  REVOLUTION 


BY 

FRED  B.  FISHER 


Author  of  “Gifts  From  the  Desert,”  “The 
Way  to  Win” 


WITH  THE  COLLABORATION  OF 

GERTRUDE  M.  WILLIAMS 


jReto  ^orb 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

1919 


A.U  right t reserved 


Copyright,  1919 

By  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  Published  April,  1919. 


TO 

E.  J.  F. 

FBLLOW  TRAVILI*. 


FOREWORD 


This  volume  endeavors  to  present  from  the  American 
viewpoint  the  economic,  social,  political  and  religious 
situation  in  India.  No  attempt  is  made  to  treat  Indian 
history  except  where  the  historical  setting  adds  clarity 
to  the  presentation  of  modern  movements.  The  war  is 
taken  as  a starting  point  because  by  a peculiar  combina- 
tion of  circumstances  it  brought  India  to  the  thresh- 
old of  her  national  desire. 

It  was  my  privilege  to  reside  in  India  during  that  por- 
tion of  Lord  Curzon’s  regime  when  the  partition  of  Ben- 
gal precipitated  the  extreme  nationalist  agitation.  A 
few  years  later  a trip  to  Great  Britain  gave  opportunity 
for  inquiries  concerning  Indian  movements  from  the 
standpoint  of  British  administration.  It  was  again  my 
fortune  to  visit  India  at  the  time  of  the  recent  govern- 
mental tour  of  investigation  conducted  by  Hon.  E.  S. 
Montagu,  the  present  Secretary  of  State.  The  demand 
for  Home  Rule,  coupled  with  India’s  vast  and  effective 
participation  in  the  world  war,  made  this  a particularly 
opportune  time  to  gain  fresh  and  vivid  impressions. 

Obligation  must  be  acknowledged  to  the  long  list  of 
authorities  on  India.  Likewise  to  friends  who  as  gov- 
ernment officials,  missionaries,  and  Indian  gentlemen,  rep- 
resenting the  Christian,  Hindu,  and  Mohammedan  com- 
munities, have  helped  interpret  the  spirit  of  this  land  of 
ancient  charm  and  marvelous  future.  Special  gratitude 
is  due  Mrs.  Williams  for  her  efficient  collaboration  in  re- 
search and  in  the  preparation  of  the  manuscript. 

FRED  B.  FISHER. 

New  York, 

January,  1919. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I India  at  the  Cross  Roads i 

II  The  War  Changes  Things 8 

III  Fields  and  Factories 31 

IV  Old  Orders  and  New 62 

V Touching  the  Untouchables 94 

VI  Lifting  the  Purdah 116 

VII  Education  and  Democracy 145 

VIII  Moving  Toward  Home  Rule 166 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 

PAGE 


Indian  troops  won  high  praise  for  their  heroic  conduct 

during  the  war 1 1 

Punjabis  listening  to  the  marvelous  stories  of  their 

boys,  home  from  the  service n 

Mother  learns  to  write  a letter  to  her  boy  in  the  trenches  25 

Having  the  kitchen  outdoors  insures  good  ventilation  . 25 

The  accommodating  charpoy  which  serves  as  bed  by 

night  and  as  settee  or  wall  tapestry  by  day  ...  45 

This  is  not  an  American  factory,  but  the  laboratory  of 

an  industrial  school  in  Nadiad 45 

The  American  Tractor  breaks  ground  for  the  new  day  55 

Would  you  know  what  to  do  with  the  plow  and  dices 

of  a tractor  in  a flax  field  in  India? 55 

The  Yankee  and  the  Indian  make  a good  combination. 
Principal  T.  C.  Badley  of  Lucknow  College  and  an 
Indian  Member  of  Faculty 92 

Future  statesmen  for  India  are  now  seriously  “ doing 

their  sums  ” 92 

He  isn’t  going  to  a masquerade  ball  in  his  great-grand- 
father’s dress  coat;  he  is  just  on  his  way  to  school 
in  a costume  quite  common  among  Indian  boys  . 113 

Children  with  the  look  of  to-morrow  on  their  faces  . 113 

An  Indian  Barrister  and  his  progressive  family  . .134 

Starting  for  the  Baby  Health  Show 134 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PACING 

PAGE 

In  Madras  Christian  College  young  Indian  men  are 
learning  to  fight  the  battle  against  ignorance,  caste, 
prejudice  and  atheism 149 

Instead  of  staying  home  behind  closed  doors  the  new 
woman  rides  forth  by  her  husband’s  side  on  the 
snorting  motorcycle 164 

While  the  modern  school  trains  the  mind  and  wakes  the 

soul,  it  also  develops  the  physique 164 

George  Gordon,  with  Lloyd  George  smile.  He  is  the 
energetic  leader  of  ten  thousand  forward-looking 
outcastes 182 

Prof.  H.  Devadassan,  B.A.,  who  stands  for  increased 

Indian  responsibility  in  both  church  and  state  . . 182 


INDIA’S  SILENT  REVOLUTION 


i 

INDIA  AT  THE  CROSS  ROADS 

Obscure  and  uncertain,  the  perpetual  process  of  adjust- 
ment between  East  and  West  looms  in  the  background 
of  every  effort  to  secure  a basis  for  permanent  world 
peace.  India,  involved  in  any  potential  balance  of  power 
in  Asia  emerges  from  a dilemma  within  the  British  Em- 
pire to  claim  world  attention  and  significance. 

Pan-German  and  Pan-Islam  are  familiar  terms. 
Since  1905  there  has  been  an  embryonic  Pan-Asia  which 
could  easily  assume  formidable  proportions.  In  the  long 
succession  of  civilizations,  this  is  the  white  man’s  day. 
Ethnologists  prophesy  that  the  next  may  be  the  brown 
man’s.  A glimpse  of  the  Orient,  a sense  of  the  plodding 
patience  of  China’s  millions,  and  the  aggressiveness  of 
the  Japanese  gives  the  traveler  a vivid  consciousness  of 
such  a possibility.  It  is  not  surprising  that  the  dark- 
skinned  races,  rebelling  against  the  subtle  sense  of  supe- 
riority which  the  white  race  feels  and  shows,  should  look 
forward  to  turning  the  tables. 

This  hope,  as  alluring  and  deeply  rooted  as  the  will- 
to-live  itself,  received  an  unexpected  fillip  in  1896  when 
Abyssinia’s  victory  over  Italy  gave  Oriental  troops  their 
first  taste  of  dominance  over  the  whites  for  at  least  three 
centuries.  In  1905  came  more  emphatic  confirmation  of 


2 


INDIA  S SILENT  REVOLUTION 


this  dawning  power  when  Japan  won  victories  over  Russia 
both  on  land  and  sea.  Ever  since  the  Oriental  world  has 
carried  itself  with  a certain  jauntiness  because  of  a new 
hope  in  its  heart.  Their  books  and  speeches  make  fre- 
quent reference  to  these  victories.  They  never  forget 
them. 

Japan  is  recognized  as  the  moving  spirit  in  any  Pan- 
Asia  movement.  She  took  the  occasion  of  the  war  to 
seize  German  territory  in  China.  For  this  she  has  been 
both  criticized  and  praised  according  to  the  viewpoint  of 
the  observer.  It  amounts  to  the  same  thing  whether  we 
accept  Japan’s  Twenty-one  Demands  as  a sincere  effort 
to  work  out  a Japanese  Monroe  Doctrine  which  should 
protect  China  from  the  aggression  of  the  western  world, 
or  whether  we  believe  that  Japan  is  scheming  to  control 
China  as  a first  step  in  vast  imperialistic  dreams.  The 
Pan-Asia  movement  has  grave  significance  in  either  case. 

Asia’s  900  million,  or  even  China’s  400  million,  mar- 
shalled by  Japan’s  more  aggressive  55  millions,  would 
constitute  a formidable  opponent  to  the  500  millions  of 
Europe  and  the  United  States  combined.  In  this  align- 
ment India  literally  holds  the  balance.  India’s  300  mil- 
lions subtracted  leaves  Asia  only  600  million.  Added 
to  Europe  and  the  United  States  it  gives  them  800 
million. 

Atlases  list  India  as  part  of  Asia.  India’s  darker  skin, 
her  Oriental  customs  and  habits  of  thought,  as  well  as 
her  geographical  position  place  her  in  Asia.  But  the 
fundamental  fact  remains  that  India  is  of  Aryan  stock 
like  ourselves.  The  blood,  ancestry  and  inheritance  of 
India  is  as  far  removed  from  the  Mongolian  as  is  our 
own.  If  blood  really  tells,  there  is  no  inherent  reason 
why  India  should  cast  in  her  lot  with  Asia. 


INDIA  AT  THE  CROSS  ROADS 


3 


Max  Muller,  perhaps  the  most  conspicuous  among 
scholars  who  have  devoted  their  attention  to  India,  wrote, 
“ Even  the  blackest  Hindu  represents  an  earlier  stage  of 
Aryan  speech  than  the  fairest  Scandinavian.”  1 

The  Encyclopedia  defines  Aryan  as  “ a word  with 
dignified  associations  by  which  the  peoples  belonging  to 
the  eastern  section  of  the  Indo-Europeans  were  proud 
to  call  themselves.”  Latest  researches  show  that  the 
oldest  domiciles  of  the  Indo-Europeans  or  Aryans  were 
probably  in  the  steppe  country  of  southern  Russia.2 

The  Imperial  Gazeteer,  final  authority  on  all  scientific 
facts  affecting  India,  in  a chapter  on  the  ethnology  of 
the  country,  says : “ Compared  with  the  rest  of  Asia, 

India  may  be  described  as  mainly  an  area  of  long-headed 
people,  separated  by  the  Himalayas  and  its  offshoots 
from  the  Mongolian  country  where  broad-headed  types 
are  more  numerous  than  anywhere  else  in  the  world.3 

G.  Lowes  Dickinson  in  his  essay  on  the  Orient,  al- 
though he  argues  that  Indian  culture  is  more  remote 
from  the  western  than  that  of  any  other  eastern  country, 
also  says,  “ Between  India  on  the  one  hand  and  China 
or  Japan  on  the  other,  there  is  as  great  a difference  as 
between  India  and  any  western  country.”  4 The  contrast 
he  finds  is  between  India  and  the  rest  of  the  world.  He 
affirms  that  ‘‘the  Vedas  reflect  an  attitude  toward  life 
similar  to  that  of  the  western  Aryans.”  5 

East  of  Turkey  and  Arabia,  and  southwest  of  China, 
India  is  geographically  a part  of  Asia.  But  the  deter- 

1 “ Biographies  of  Words,”  p.  120. 

2 “ Imperial  Gazeteer,”  vol.  I,  p.  352. 

3 “ Imperial  Gazeteer,”  vol.  1,  p.  289. 

4 “ Essay  on  the  Civilizations  of  India,  China  and  Japan,”  p.  7. 

5 Ibid.,  p.  14. 


4 


India’s  silent  revolution 


mining  factor  stands  unchanged.  However  the  difference 
in  the  color  of  their  skins  may  have  come  about,  all  the 
subtle  psychic  and  atavistic  influences  of  blood  and  race 
draw  India  to  us  rather  than  to  the  yellow  Mongolian. 

The  war  gave  abundant  proof  of  India’s  instinctive  re- 
sponse to  the  call  of  the  western  world.  There  are  fifty- 
seven  million  Mohammedans  in  India.  Germany,  allied 
with  Turkey,  had  counted  confidently  on  stirring  up  a 
Holy  War  in  which  all  Mohammedans  should  rally  to  the 
aid  of  their  Turkish  brethren  against  the  Allied  Chris- 
tians. This  Holy  War  was  to  have  been  the  entering 
wedge  for  a nation-wide  revolt  throughout  India  against 
English  rule.  The  Rowlatt  report,  following  an  official 
British  investigation  of  the  subject,  outlines  the  minute 
details  with  which  Germany  elaborated  her  plans.  Fa- 
miliarity with  the  extravagance  and  resourcefulness  of 
German  propaganda  in  this  country  and  Mexico  suggests 
how  eagerly  she  must  have  cultivated  possibilities  of  In- 
dian discontent.  They  were  to  begin  by  smuggling 
guns  and  ammunition  into  Calcutta,  sacking  the  city,  and 
then  spreading  the  rebellion  across  India. 

None  of  this  eventuated.  India  rose  to  the  support 
of  the  Allies  with  a spontaneous  loyalty  which  stirred 
even  the  British  pulse  in  those  early  days  of  the  war, 
when  glowing  messages  of  support  flooded  into  London 
from  every  corner  of  the  Empire. 

Germany  did  not  even  succeed  in  bringing  the  Moham- 
medans together.  For  the  first  time  in  all  the  centuries 
of  Mohammedan  history,  Islam  was  divided  against  it- 
self. Moslems  subordinated  loyalty  to  their  faith  to 
a greater  issue.  Side  by  side,  Indian  Moslems  and 
Hindus  rallied  to  the  British  colors.  When  some  of 
these  troops  were  taken  prisoners,  the  Germans  sent 


INDIA  AT  THE  CROSS  ROADS 


5 


them  down  to  Constantinople,  hoping  that  the  pressure 
of  Islam’s  sacred  city,  with  all  its  associations,  would  win 
them  over.  They  were  held  prisoners  down  there  for 
some  months,  finally  escaping  eastward  across  Afghan- 
istan. Never  once  did  they  waver  in  their  allegiance  to 
the  British  Raj,  as  they  call  the  Government. 

Great  Britain  has  an  alliance  treaty  with  Japan  for  “ the 
consolidation  and  maintenance  of  the  general  peace  in 
the  regions  of  Eastern  Asia  and  India,”  by  which,  under 
certain  conditions,  the  Japanese  army  and  navy  will  turn 
out  to  help  if  Great  Britain  calls  on  them.  This  alliance 
has  been  the  subject  of  varied  discussion  in  the  Orient 
during  the  war.  An  editorial  in  the  Yorodzu,  an  inde- 
pendent paper  of  Tokyo,  throws  an  interesting  sidelight 
on  the  possible  attitude  of  Japan  toward  India. 

“If  a third  power  should  attack  India,  Japan  must 
help.  But  in  case  of  a civil  war,  Japan  has  no  duty  to 
help  England  oppress  the  Indians.  As  we  are  at  war 
with  Germany,  we  had  advocated  sending  an  expedition 
to  Europe.  But  we  had  never  thought  of  making  our- 
selves slaves  of  England,  to  oppress  the  Indians  against 
whom  we  had  no  grudge.  We  had  an  intimate  friend- 
ship with  India  from  ancient  times.  We  consider  the 
300  million  Indians  as  if  they  were  our  own  brethren. 
. . . The  desire  of  the  Indians  for  self-government  did 
not  develop  on  account  of  German  instigation.  We  Jap- 
anese should  study  this  situation  of  India  very  carefully 
indeed.”  1 

India  stands  at  what  may  ultimately  be  a parting  of 
the  ways.  Two  centuries  of  British  administration  have 
overlaid  upon  the  variegated  mosaic  of  Indian  life  a 

1 Quoted  in  T.  F.  Millard’s  “ Our  Eastern  Question,”  p.  248. 


6 


India’s  silent  revolution 


considerable  degree  of  Anglo-Saxon  culture.  In  the  de- 
velopment of  India’s  educational  and  industrial  systems. 
Great  Britain,  even  were  she  to  withdraw  from  India  to- 
morrow would  leave  a profound  and  lasting  impression. 
The  call  of  blood,  the  atavism  of  race  itself,  however 
much  modified  by  an  Oriental  environment,  is  fundamen- 
tally toward  the  West. 

The  West,  absorbed  in  its  own  affairs,  far  from  study- 
ing to  understand  India,  maintains  a superior  attitude. 
As  Dickinson  phrases  it,  “ There  the  English  are,  a small 
camp  of  conquerors  planted  down  among  millions  of  con- 
quered.” 

The  Japanese  permit  themselves  no  such  arrogance. 
Although  of  alien  stock,  they  make  the  most  of  the  fact 
that  they  are  both  dark  skinned.  With  Oriental  suavity, 
they  pay  compliments  to  India  as  “ the  mother  of  reli- 
gions,” and  “ the  ancient  progenitor  of  culture.” 

Urged  on  by  varied  influences,  Indians  are  to-day  de- 
manding a fuller  share  and  representation  in  their  gov- 
ernment. The  world  is  in  a mood  for  readjustment,  for 
the  finishing  off  of  old  regimes  and  the  commencement 
of  new  eras. 

England  has  given  evidence  that  she  realizes  that  some- 
thing is  expected  of  her.  Even  while  the  war  was  on,  her 
Liberal  administration  found  time  to  appoint  a commis- 
sion to  report  on  constitutional  reform  for  India.  This 
report  was  presented  to  Parliament  in  July,  1918.  Al- 
though it  was  far  from  sweeping  enough  to  satisfy  even 
the  middle  ground  of  representative  Indian  opinion,  Par- 
liament found  it  too  radical  for  its  taste  and  has  ever 
since  hedged  and  postponed  — on  the  ground  of  absorp- 
tion in  the  war. 

Now  the  war  is  over.  The  primary  business  of  all  the 


INDIA  AT  THE  CROSS  ROADS 


7 


world  has  become  the  consideration  and  readjustment  of 
just  such  matters  as  this  question  of  the  extension  of 
representative  government  in  India.  India  stands  wait- 
ing to  learn  what  England  is  going  to  do  for  her.  She 
is  waiting  with  admirable  self-control  and  patience.  If 
India  had  been  as  deliberate  in  deciding  just  how  much 
help  she  would  offer  in  the  war,  England  might  still  be 
waiting  for  Indian  troops  and  supplies. 

Shall  India  follow  the  trend  of  her  racial  ties  and  the 
influence  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  culture,  which  has  already 
taught  her  to  yearn  for  a Magna  Charta  of  her  own? 
Shall  she  remain  in  spirit  and  influence  an  Aryan  peo- 
ple? 

Or  shall  she  cross  the  divide,  and  throw  in  her  three 
hundred  millions,  with  all  their  man  power  and  resources, 
to  become  a true  Asian  among  Asiatics  ? 

The  British  Parliament  holds  the  decision  of  this  ques- 
tion in  the  dim  and  mysterious  recesses  of  its  gloomy 
halls,  where,  as  in  other  legislative  chambers,  reports  of 
vital  import  are  sometimes  shelved  and  tabled  and  com- 
mitteed  until  the  time  for  action  has  passed. 


II 


THE  WAR  CHANGES  THINGS 

India's  sons  fought  and  died  in  the  Allied  trenches. 
Her  industries  leaped  into  unprecedented  activity,  to  sup- 
ply khaki,  tents,  blankets,  shoes  and  munitions  for  the 
armies  of  the  empire.  Her  farmers  had  to  make  ten 
seeds  grow  where  one  grew  before,  to  produce  the  needed 
cotton,  jute,  wheat,  and  food  stuffs. 

India  has  been  affected  by  the  war  even  more  pro- 
foundly than  her  participation  in  men  and  money  would 
imply.  War  conditions,  negligible  in  their  effect  in 
other  countries,  worked  fundamental  changes  there. 
For  India  is  a fascinating  and  mysterious  combination 
of  the  tenth  century  and  the  twentieth.  The  British 
have  built  three  hundred  thousand  miles  of  railroad. 
But  the  turbaned  engineer  delays  his  English  train  while  he 
crouches  on  a station  platform  before  a priest  in  a loin 
cloth.  The  priest  daubs  red  and  white  paint  on  the  en- 
gineer’s forehead,  renewing  the  trident  or  the  spot  of 
bright  carmine  which  brands  him  a worshiper  of  Vishnu 
or  of  Siva,  and  which  had  been  dimmed  by  the  soot  and 
wind  of  his  engine  window. 

Patiently  the  Indian  ryot  potters  over  the  sixteen  mil- 
lion acres  of  land  scientifically  irrigated  under  the  Brit- 
ish administration,  plowing  it  with  a crooked  stick. 
Wealthy  and  progressive  Indian  landowners  give  dem- 
onstrations of  the  modern  farm  machinery  which  their 
sons  have  brought  back  from  American  agricultural  col- 

8 


ERRATUM 

Page  8,  line  13,  for  three  hundred  thousand  read 
thirty  thousand. 


THE  WAR  CHANGES  THINGS 


9 


leges.  But  the  tenth-century  farmer  gazes  skeptically, 
and,  shaking  his  head,  goes  back  to  his  crooked  stick  — 
or  at  least  he  did  until  the  demands  of  the  war  made  it 
urgent  that  India  produce  more  cotton,  wheat  and  jute 
for  the  armies.  Suddenly  India’s  tenth-century  life, 
untouched  by  a nineteenth  century  at  peace,  made  way 
for  a twentieth  century  at  war. 

The  newspapers  gave  evidence  of  how  deeply  the  war 
penetrated  into  the  seclusion  of  Indian  life.  School 
children  recited  selections  from  their  national  epic  Ra- 
mayana,  followed  by  modern  battle  poems.  At  Red 
Cross  entertainments,  Indian  purdah  ladies  — the  high- 
caste  women  carefully  isolated  behind  the  purdah  or  cur- 
tain which  divides  the  women’s  apartment  from  the  rest 
of  the  house  — rolled  bandages  and  knit  socks  as  de- 
votedly as  the  women  of  New  York  City  or  Uphams 
Corners. 

Early  in  the  war  the  women  of  Bombay  held  a mass 
meeting  in  the  town  hall  to  organize  a center  for  war  re- 
lief work.  The  members  gathered  daily  to  cut  out  gar- 
ments which  were  taken  home  to  be  finished  by  women 
of  all  classes.  This  center  turned  out  as  many  as  2,000 
shirts  per  week.  A children’s  branch  was  established  to 
collect  garments  and  donations  for  the  children  of  sol- 
diers. Work  was  provided  for  families  in  distress. 
Committees  of  women  visited  hospitals,  gave  concerts  and 
organized  fairs.  There  were  tag  days,  name  days, 
money-raising  campaigns.  Her  Majesty  the  Queen  sent 
over  special  gifts  to  be  auctioned  off  for  the  benefit  of 
war  causes.  “ A French  Vernis  Martin  fan,  a gold  van- 
ity case;  gold  pendants  of  George  and  Dragon;  a crys- 
tal box  and  a work  bag,  on  view  in  the  window  of  the 
Currency  Office  in  Hornby  Road.” 


10 


INDIA’S  SILENT  REVOLUTION 


The  papers,  down  to  the  very  cheapest,  printed  picture 
supplements  giving  maps  of  the  battle  lines  and  photo- 
graphs from  the  front.  There  were  interviews  with  In- 
dian soldiers  who  distinguished  themselves  in  the 
trenches ; a Mussulman  who  owned  a herd  of  camels 
and  wanted  to  raise  a camel  corps;  a Ghurka  Rifle  who 
though  badly  wounded  himself,  rescued  a British  soldier 
and  two  Ghurkas,  in  broad  daylight  under  the  German 
fire,  and  received  the  Victoria  Cross. 

From  the  first  the  response  of  Indian  princes  and 
rajahs  of  the  native  states  was  so  immediate  and  gen- 
erous that  it  was  not  until  the  second  year  of  war  that 
England  undertook  to  float  a loan  in  India.  Lord  Sy- 
denham,'ex-governor  of  Bombay  and  an  English  states- 
man of  the  old  school  in  his  attitude  toward  India,  has 
published  an  appreciative  little  white-bound  book,  elabo- 
rately illustrated,  which  describes  the  liberality  and  ex- 
travagance of  these  princely  gifts. 

The  Maharajah  of  Gwalior  from  his  private  purse 
fitted  out  the  hospital  ship  Loyalty  to  accompany  the 
Indian  Expeditionary  Force,  at  a cost  of  $1,600,000. 
The  Nizam  of  Hyderabad  offered  the  Government  $2,- 
000,000,  and  the  Maharajah  of  Mysore  a similar  sum. 
Personal  stables  of  horses,  camels,  and  elephants  were 
turned  over  to  the  War  Department.  Princely  jewels 
were  pledged  for  the  purchase  of  machine  guns  and 
equipment.  Twenty-seven  of  the  native  states  main- 
tain imperial  service  troops,  and  these  were  all  put  at 
the  disposal  of  the  Viceroy.  Even  the  chiefs  of  border 
tribes,  whose  capriciousness  and  security  in  their  moun- 
tain strongholds  has  made  the  frontier  problem  always 
an  anxious  one  for  the  British  army  in  India,  sent  mes- 
sages of  loyalty  and  support.  It  was  largely  due  to  the 


Indian  troops  won  high  praise  for  their  heroic  conduct  during 

the  war 

Punjabis  listening  to  the  marvelous  stories  of  their  boys  home 
from  the  trenches 


THE  WAR  CHANGES  THINGS 


I I 


loyalty  of  these  tribes,  who  do  not  owe  allegiance  to  the 
British  Empire  and  have  never  been  subdued,  that  the 
Germans  were  unable  to  make  headway  toward  India 
from  the  north.  To  celebrate  the  centenary  of  the  first 
treaty  between  the  British  Government  and  the  state  of 
Bikaner,  the  Maharajah  offered  three  lakhs  of  rupees 
($100,000)  for  any  war  purpose  or  war  charity  which 
His  Majesty  might  designate.  The  Nizam  of  Hyder- 
abad, near  the  end  of  the  war,  was  so  stirred  on  reading 
a message  from  His  Majesty  that  he  cabled  a gift  of 
$500,000. 

War  loans  of  five  hundred  and  three  hundred  and 
twenty-five  million  dollars,  subscribed  during  the  second 
and  fourth  years  of  the  war  by  India’s  population  of 
315,000,000,  do  not  seem  overwhelming  when  compared 
with  our  Liberty  Loans  running  into  the  billions,  until 
one  considers  the  proportionate  wealth.  India’s  “ free 
gift  ” of  $500,000,000  is  like  the  widow’s  mite  as  com- 
pared with  any  sums,  however  huge,  that  this  country 
may  raise.  In  the  United  States  the  average  annual  in- 
come is  $400,  as  computed  by  the  National  City  Bank  of 
New  York.  In  India  the  average  income  is  $20  a year. 
Floating  a loan  of  $500,000,000  on  average  incomes  of 
six  cents  a day  becomes  a very  impressive  matter. 

Lord  Hardinge,  who  was  Viceroy  of  India  during 
the  first  three  years  of  the  war,  testifying  during  the 
Mesopotamia  Commission  Inquiry  in  July,  1917,  before 
the  House  of  Lords  as  to  India’s  participation  in  the 
war,  stated  that  early  in  the  fall  of  1914  she  sent  to 
France,  and  later  to  Egypt,  an  expeditionary  force  of 
290,000  troops  fully  trained  and  equipped  — a force 
three  times  the  size  of  the  entire  American  army  before 
the  war.  Of  these,  210,000  were  Indian  troops  and 


12 


India’s  silent  revolution 


80.000  British.  Lord  Hardinge  compared  these  figures 
with  the  force  of  18,000  which  was  India’s  previous  rec- 
ord for  an  overseas  expedition.  He  called  attention  to 
the  fact  that  there  was  an  interval  between  dispatch  of 
the  expedition  and  the  arrival  of  the  newly  drafted  ter- 
ritorials to  take  their  places  when  there  were  only  about 

15.000  British  soldiers  in  all  India.  It  was  the  first  time 
since  the  mutiny  in  1857  that  the  British  army  had  ever 
been  allowed  to  drop  so  low.  Summing  up,  Lord  Hard- 
inge used  a vivid  phrase,  “ The  Imperial  Government  al- 
lowed India  to  be  bled  absolutely  white  during  the  first 
weeks  of  war.” 

In  1917  India  recruited  285,000  soldiers  for  the  Al- 
lied army,  and  in  1918  a half  million  were  enlisted. 
These  figures  again  do  not  seem  particularly  significant 
for  a population  of  315,000,000.  It  is  estimated  that 
one  out  of  every  four  males  in  Great  Britain  served  in 
the  army,  whereas  in  India  less  than  one  in  one  hundred 
and  sixty-one  males  saw  foreign  service,  either  as  fight- 
ers or  war  workers. 

The  fact  that  the  proportion  is  so  small  is  largely  due 
to  the  traditional  policy  of  the  British  Government, 
which  did  not  consider  it  wise  to  arm  and  train  any  very 
large  force  of  Indians  because  of  the  possibility  of  in- 
ternal discontent.1  This  fear  has  of  course  been  in- 
tensified by  the  danger  of  German  propaganda. 

If  the  announcement  by  the  Government  in  August, 
1918,  that  Indians  will  hereafter  be  eligible  for  com- 
missions in  the  British  army  materializes  on  any  ade- 
quate scale,  it  will  go  far  toward  changing  the  present 
apathy  as  regards  army  careers  among  Indians.  It  has 

1 St.  Nihal  Singh,  Contemporary  Review,  June,  1918. 


THE  WAR  CHANGES  THINGS 


*3 


not  roused  much  enthusiasm  because  of  the  vagueness  of 
its  terms.  It  does  not  specify  how  many  commissions 
are  to  be  granted,  except  in  the  case  of  the  ten  cadetships 
at  Sandhurst.  Indian  critics  complain  that  these  cadet- 
ships are  nominations  and  will  be  limited  to  the  sons 
of  wealthy  Indians  who  are  on  particularly  good  terms 
with  the  administration.  It  is  suggested  that  a royal 
military  college  for  India,  where  all  officers  to  serve  in 
India,  both  Indian  and  British,  must  be  trained,  would 
be  more  acceptable. 

When  Lord  Chelmsford  took  his  seat  as  Viceroy  of 
India  in  September,  1917,  he  summarized  India’s  contri- 
butions to  the  war  as  follows : “ The  dispatching  of  so 

many  expeditionary  forces  from  India  has  necessitated 
a great  expansion  in  military  transport.  Four-camel 
transport  corps  and  27  mule  corps  have  been  dispatched 
on  service,  representing  a total  of  over  13,000  men  and 
17,000  animals.  To  replace  these  units  and  provide  for 
wasteage,  some  16  new  transports  corps  and  cadres  have 
been  formed.  Six  labor  corps  have  been  sent  to  the 
front,  and  some  1,500  overseers,  draftsmen,  clerks, 
storekeepers,  carpenters,  smiths  and  mechanics.  In  re- 
spect of  medical  personnel  and  equipment,  India’s  con- 
tributions have  been  on  a very  big  scale  — 40  field  am- 
bulances, 6 clearing,  35  stationary  and  8 general  hos- 
pitals, and  25  special  sections  with  a personnel  of  6,000 
trained  men  and  nearly  20,000  Indian  followers.  The 
strain  which  has  been  caused  to  the  Civil  Medical  De- 
partment by  these  changes  and  withdrawals  has  been 
very  great.  In  the  medical  sphere,  in  fact,  it  must  be 
patent  to  all  that,  in  responding  to  the  demands  made 
upon  us,  we  have  gone  as  far  as  it  was  possible  to  go.” 

His  Excellency  called  attention  to  the  very  satisfac- 


14 


India’s  silent  revolution 


tory  results  following  the  opening  of  recruiting  to  sev- 
eral classes  to  whom  it  had  previously  been  closed,  in- 
cluding the  Bengalis,  and  he  read  a long  list  of  recent 
individual  gifts  from  ruling  princes  and  chiefs,  includ- 
ing $144,000  from  Rajputana  for  anti-aircraft  machine 
guns  and  motor  ambulances,  $14,400  for  aeroplanes,  and 
$72,000  from  the  privy  purse  of  the  Maharajah  of  Bi- 
kaner. 

India’s  contributions  in  supplies  of  all  sorts,  food- 
stuffs, clothing,  ordnance,  equipment  and  munitions,  the 
training  and  dispatching  of  horses,  and  lending  to  the 
Admiralty  a great  part  of  her  Royal  Indian  Marine  fleet, 
were  totalled  up  by  the  Finance  Member  of  the  Viceroy’s 
Council  as  amounting  to  fifty  million  for  the  first  year 
of  the  war,  ninety  million  the  second  year,  and  over  one 
hundred  millions  the  third  year. 

There  has  been  cordial  recognition  of  the  enthusiasm 
of  India’s  response  from  the  Imperial  Government,  not 
only  in  the  appointment  of  the  Commission  on  Consti- 
tutional Reform,  but  in  messages  and  speeches.  The 
King  Emperor  in  an  imperial  message  announced  that 
nothing  had  moved  him  more  than  “ the  passionate  de- 
votion to  my  Throne  expressed  by  my  Indian  subjects 
and  by  the  Feudatory  Princes  and  Ruling  Chiefs  of  In- 
dia, and  their  prodigious  offers  of  their  lives  and  their 
resources  in  the  cause  of  the  Realm.” 

The  Hon.  E.  S.  Montagu,  since  appointed  Secretary 
of  State,  in  a speech  before  the  House  of  Commons  in 
the  summer  of  1917  said  that  “ the  share  of  the  Indian 
people  in  this  war  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  had 
always  been  greater  . . . and  more  willing  than  the 
share  of  the  Indian  government”  (i.  e.  the  British  ad- 
ministration). 


THE  WAR  CHANGES  THINGS 


15 


It  is  too  early  to  attempt  to  define  the  effect  of  the  war 
upon  India’s  international  status,  but  it  seems  certain 
that  her  position  in  Asia  will  be  profoundly  altered. 
She  can  scarcely  carry  out  her  functions  as  the  strong- 
hold and  citadel  of  the  British  Empire  in  the  East  un- 
less she  has  a recognized  position  in  the  organization 
of  the  Federal  Government.  Changes  in  this  direction 
are  evident.  The  admission  of  Indians  to  imperial 
councils  both  in  London  and  in  India  is  unprecedented. 
For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  British  rule  in  India 
Indians  have  been  admitted  to  an  imperial  council  sit- 
ting in  London.  The  Imperial  War  Council  included 
two  Indian  members.  These  two  men,  His  Highness  the 
Maharajah  of  Bikaner,  and  the  Hon.  Lord  Sinha,  K.C., 
were  also  appointed  delegates  to  represent  India  at  the 
Paris  Peace  Conference.  Lord  Sinha  is  notable  as  the 
first  Indian  member  of  the  British  peerage,  to  which  he 
was  elevated  shortly  after  the  signing  of  the  armistice. 
He  was  at  the  same  time  appointed  the  first  Indian  Under 
Secretary  of  State  for  India,  honors  which  India  has  ap- 
preciated not  only  as  a tribute  personal  to  Lord  Sinha, 
but  as  a gracious  recognition  of  his  country. 

During  the  war,  the  Viceroy  for  the  first  time  sum- 
moned a conference  representative  of  all  shades  of 
Indian  opinion.  Rajahs  and  maharanis,  English  lieu- 
tenant-governors and  Anglo-Indian  officials  represent- 
ing all  the  provinces,  both  under  native  rule  and  under 
the  British  Raj,  met  together  in  Delhi  early  in  1918  at 
the  summons  of  the  Viceroy  for  an  all-India  war  council. 

In  addition  to  its  purpose  of  securing  the  closest  co- 
operation for  the  war,  it  considered  the  problem  of  an 
all-India  policy  which  should  not  only  apply  during  the 
war  but  should  pave  the  way  for  something  more  far- 


1 6 India’s  silent  revolution 

reaching  afterward.  Committees  were  appointed  on 
man-power,  resources,  and  a second  war  loan. 

An  immediate  result  of  this  conference  was  the  calling 
of  numerous  provincial  conferences  to  follow  up  the  res- 
olutions passed  with  specific  plans.  Bengal  called  the 
first  conference. 

A significant  incident  of  the  Behar  conference  was  a 
speech  by  the  Hon.  Mazur-ul-huque,  one  of  the  Nation- 
alist leaders.  He  declared  that  India  was  loyal  to  the 
core.  “ Whatever  differences  we  may  have  had  with  the 
Government,  they  do  not  concern  any  one  outside  India 
(applause),  and  to-day  we  stand  ready  to  sink  those  dif- 
ferences and  to  help  the  Empire.” 

Closely  linked  to  the  war,  and  no  doubt  playing  a large 
part  among  its  causes  was  the  old  question  of  an  over- 
land route  to  the  Far  East.  It  was  in  326  b.  c.  that  Al- 
exander the  Great  crossed  the  Hindu  Kush  Mountains 
and  invaded  India.  For  centuries  thereafter  caravans 
of  spices,  silks,  prints  and  jewels  filed  through  the 
Khvber  Pass,  and  from  the  great  highroad  across  Mes- 
opotamia scattered  to  all  parts  of  Europe  and  Asia. 
It  was  a long,  slow  journey  of  many  months,  beset  by 
brigands,  and  Vasco  da  Gamas’s  discovery  of  a sea 
route  to  India  in  1498  diverted  the  burdens  of  those 
dusty  caravans  into  the  dark,  cool  holds  of  caravels  and 
sailing  packets. 

Sails  have  given  place  to  steam,  and  the  time  of  pas- 
sage has  been  cut  in  half  and  fractions,  but  still  we  seek 
a shorter  way,  and  to-day  we  have  turned  back  again 
to  the  old  caravan  trails  where  half  a dozen  projected 
railroads  are  pushing  ahead  impatiently.  It  is  not  only 
the  engineering  problem  that  delays  them,  but  also  the 
criss-cross  of  politics  between  the  nations  involved.  It 


I 


THE  WAR  CHANGES  THINGS  1 7 

has  been  stated  that  one  of  the  principal  reasons  for 
the  uncompromising  finality  of  the  ultimatum  to  Serbia 
was  the  determination  to  subjugate  Serbia  to  Austria, 
and  thereby  eliminate  one  more  of  the  units  that  stood 
in  the  way  of  a clear  path  from  Berlin  to  the  Orient  for 
the  Kaiser’s  famous  “ Berlin  to  Bagdad  ” railroad. 

Even  if  the  Kaiser  had  achieved  his  dream  of  a Pan- 
Germany,  there  would  still  be  1,500  miles  of  Persia  and 
Baluchistan  between  Bagdad  and  India,  most  of  it  track- 
less desert,  serving  as  a buffer  against  him.  In  the 
meantime,  India  has  a much  nearer  route  to  Europe. 
A Russian  railroad  of  nearly  6,000  miles  runs  through 
Warsaw  and  Moscow,  south  across  Turkestan  to  within 
about  400  miles  of  Peshawar  and  the  famous  Khyber 
Pass.  With  the  completion  of  this  400  miles  it  will 
be  possible  to  enter  an  express  train  at  the  Hook  of  Hol- 
land and  step  out  into  the  Delhi  Station  six  days  later, 
thus  cutting  down  the  present  schedule  of  seventeen  days 
by  almost  two-thirds. 

It  has  been  in  her  industrial  life  that  tenth-century  In- 
dia received,  perhaps,  the  most  violent  impact  from  this 
twentieth-century  war.  For  India’s  industrial  life  has 
amounted  to  almost  nothing  with  over  90  per  cent,  of 
her  population  engaged  in  agriculture.  Practically  the 
entire  population  is  dependent  on  the  success  of  the 
crops.  In  bad  weather,  with  a poor  harvest,  entire' 
communities  are  left  destitute,  as  they  have  no  alterna- 
tive source  of  income. . This  is  one  of  the  chief  causes 
for  India’s  terrific  famines.  In  forty  years  (1860- 
1900),  thirty  million  people  died  of  hunger  in  Tm’-'a. 
Back  in  the  palmy  days  of  the  British  East  India  Com- 
pany in  the  1700’s,  India  was  world-famous  for  her  fine 
silks  and  linens  and  prints,  designed  and  woven  by 


1 8 India’s  silent  revolution 

artist  craftsmen.  But  the  competition  of  the  whirring 
spindles  of  Manchester  and  Lancashire  proved  too  much 
for  these  simple  home  industries.  One  by  one  the  weav- 
ing communities  had  to  give  up  and  turn  to  agriculture. 

Suddenly,  it  became  of  vital  importance  to  the  British 
Empire  — to  the  allied  world  — that  India  should  de- 
velop over  night  as  a base  of  supplies  for  the  army. 
In  his  first  viceregal  speech  before  the  Simla  Legisla- 
ture in  the  fall  of  1917,  Lord  Chelmsford  gave  great  em- 
phasis to  the  work  of  the  munitions  board  under  Sir 
Thomas  Holland  which  developed  the  manufacture  of 
munitions  in  India  on  a considerable  scale.  Now  that 
peace  has  come,  plans  are  being  laid  for  the  organiza- 
tion and  promotion  of  a great  industrial  expansion,  con- 
verting the  munitions  board  into  a permanent  board  of 
Indian  industries. 

In  a speech  before  the  Royal  Society  of  Arts  in  Lon- 
don in  the  summer  of  1918.  Mr.  Montagu,  Secretary  of 
State,  who  had  just  returned  from  India,  emphasized  her 
immediate  importance  as  a source  and  base  of  supplies. 
She  is  the  third  cotton  producing  country  in  the  world, 
occupying  the  most  important  position  as  regards  cotton 
in  the  Empire.  With  adequate  development  of  Indian  re- 
sources,  the  United  Kingdom  could  be  made  quite  inde- 
pendent of  outside  sources  of  supply. 

Owing  to  shipping  difficulties  and  other  causes,  Mr. 
Montagu  said  that  the  supply  of  British-made  goods 
for  the  army  had  decreased,  and  the  Government  had  to 
fall  back  on  India.  In  1917  alone,  India  supplied  20,- 
000,000  yards  of  khaki  drill,  300,500,000  of  khaki  drill 
shirting,  and  17,500,000  of  khaki  pugaree  cloth.  Six 
large  modern  mills  were  put  to  work  making  nothing 
but  tent  cloth,  and  India  has  shown  great  resourceful- 


THE  WAR  CHANGES  THINGS 


19 


ness  in  supplying  even  the  khaki  dyes.  “ All  this,”  said 
Mr.  Montagu,  “ had  given  a tremendous  fillip  to  the  in- 
dustry, and  it  might  be  hoped  that  the  ground  gained 
would  not  be  lost  with  the  coming  of  peace.” 

Mr.  Montagu  commented  on  the  increasing  number 
of  young,  well-educated  and  competent  Indians  able  to 
undertake  the  direction  of  industrial  enterprises.  Ev- 
erywhere he  was  struck  with  the  eagerness  to  develop 
the  manufacture  in  India  of  goods  made  from  native 
raw  materials.  He  believes  that  India  has  before  her  a 
great  industrial  future. 

The  Tata  Iron  and  Steel  Works,  one  of  the  largest 
native  industries,  has  shared  in  the  fabulous  war-time 
prosperity  of  steel  plants,  and  is  now  making  elaborate 
plans  for  the  diversion  of  the  product  to  after-war  needs 
by  organizing  subsidiary  companies  to  take  up  new  lines 
of  building  and  expansion.  The  company  has  voluntar- 
ily raised  the  pay  of  its  employees  and  provides  them 
a hospital,  convalescent  fund,  night  school,  mechanical 
school,  two  institutes  with  concert  halls,  cinema  shows, 
billiard  and  reading  rooms,  tennis  and  playgrounds.  It 
is  planning  cooperative  stores,  credit  societies,  more 
schools,  and  has  sent  to  England  for  a trained,  social 
worker  to  direct  these  activities.  In  view  of  the  short- 
age of  trained  mechanics  available  for  reconstruction 
work,  it  is  planning  to  build  a technological  institute  at 
Sakchi  to  train  men  in  chemical  and  metallurgical  in- 
dustries. It  also  plans  a research  laboratory  in  these 
two  lines.  This  work  is  especially  valuable  for  Indians, 
as,  in  trying  to  get  this  training  in  England,  students 
have  found  a decided  prejudice  against  admitting  them 
to  English  shops. 

Queen  Mary’s  Technical  School  in  Bombay  was  or- 


20 


India’s  silent  revolution 


ganized  during  the  war.  It  gives  direct  industrial  train- 
ing in  the  various  trades  to  men  disabled  in  war,  keeps 
them  at  school  for  six  months,  providing  food  and  cloth- 
ing, and  gives  them  return  tickets  home.  There  are 
classes  in  tailoring,  motor-car  driving  and  motor  me- 
chanics, knitting,  carpentering,  cinema  operating,  oil  en- 
gine driving,  fitting  and  turning,  and  elementary  engi- 
neering. There  is  a machine  shop  which  gives  instruc- 
tion on  metal  lathes,  wood  lathes,  drills,  nut  and  bolt- 
making machines,  a brass  foundry,  tin  box-making  plant, 
and  a dovetailing  machine  for  ammunition  boxes. 
There  is  a poultry  farm  stocked  with  prize  fowls,  where 
incubation  is  taught.  There  are  also  lectures  on  modern 
scientific  principles  of  cultivation  of  grain,  fruits  and 
vegetables. 

There  are  many  evidences  of  the  industrial  awaken- 
ing. The  Maharajah  of  Travancore  has  appointed  a 
trained  European  officer  to  make  an  industrial  survey 
of  his  state  and  report  on  the  introduction  of  industrial 
and  technical  education. 

One  curious  result  of  the  war  has  been  the  sudden 
reversal  of  official  condemnation  of  the  “ swadeshi  ” 
movement  into  official  endorsement.  Swadeshi  means 
home-made  — “ Patronize  home  industries.”  The  swa- 
deshi movement  in  India  has  in  the  past  been  developed 
into  an  economic  boycott  of  foreign  goods,  especially 
English  made.  It  has  been  used  as  a political  weapon 
and  to  retaliate  against  the  heavy  duties  on  Indian  fab- 
rics which  were  levied  in  the  early  struggling  days  of  the 
English  factory,  and  which  many  Indians  feel  practically 
strangled  the  Indian  weaving  industry  to  death.  It  was 
also  used  after  the  partition  of  Bengal. 

Sir  Valentine  Chirol,  who  was  for  years  correspon- 


THE  WAR  CHANGES  THINGS 


21 


dent  of  the  London  Times  in  India  and  represents  con- 
servative opinion,  attacks  the  swadeshi  movement  as  being 
far  removed  from  a “ mere  innocent  economic  propa- 
ganda for  the  furtherance  of  native  industries,”  and  af- 
filiates it  with  esoteric  religious  rites  and  extremes  of 
anti-British  political  agitation.  1 Yet  in  the  winter  of 
1917-18,  if  you  had  been  in  Bombay,  you  might  have 
attended  a swadeshi  exhibition  organized  by  Her  Excel- 
lency, Lady  Wellington,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Vic- 
eroy and  the  governors  of  three  presidencies.  Home- 
made brooms,  brushes,  soaps,  shoes  and  many  other  man- 
ufactured articles  were  on  exhibition,  as  well  as  fabrics, 
and  an  Indian  paper  complacently  boasted  that  the  only 
essentials  to  modern  life  which  Indians  now  have  to  im- 
port are  watches  and  spectacles ! 

The  cause  of  this  reversal  of  attitude  was  of  course 
the  desire  to  cut  down  on  shipping  and  make  India,  for 
the  duration  of  the  war,  entirely  self-dependent.  The 
importance  for  India  lies  in  the  fact  that  these  indus- 
tries developed  during  the  war  under  official  patronage 
will  not  suddenly  shut  down  on  the  declaration  of  peace. 

Agriculture,  as  well  as  industry,  has  felt  the  stimulus 
of  war.  The  Maharajah  of  Gwalior,  one  of  the  native 
Princes  of  India,  has  purchased  $100,000  worth  of  Amer- 
ican agricultural  machinery  and  has  organized  the  re- 
clamation of  a half-million  acres  of  land  in  his  state  for 
the  special  benefit  of  the  outcastes.  The  maharajahs  of 
a dozen  other  native  states  have  scientific,  agricultural 
experiment  and  demonstration  stations  already  estab- 
lished or  in  process  of  organization. 

For  some  years,  the  Government  of  India  has  set  aside 
a yearly  appropriation  of  $665,000  for  scientific  exper- 

1 “ Indian  Unrest.” 


22 


India’s  silent  revolution 


imental  work  on  Indian  agricultural  problems  and  for 
schools  and  classes  to  teach  the  peasants  how  to  utilize 
their  land.  Since  the  war,  and  particularly  since  Russia 
has  been  cut  off  as  a base  of  food  supplies,  the  impor- 
tance of  increasing  India’s  production  ha?  been  keenly 
felt.  At  present,  according  to  the  India  Year  Book,  1 
each  of  the  larger  provinces  has  at  least  one  deputy  direc- 
tor of  agriculture,  an  agricultural  chemist,  and  an  eco- 
nomic botanist.  There  are  also  fiber  and  cotton  spe- 
cialists, mycologists,  bacteriologists,  entomologists  — all 
of  them  trained  experts  from  Great  Britain. 

Effects  of  the  war  on  the  social  life  of  India,  on  its 
individual  homes  and  the  status  of  its  women,  are  subtle 
and  far-reaching.  Ninety  per  cent,  of  India’s  popula- 
tion engaged  in  agriculture  implies  the  fact  that  India 
lives  in  villages.  There  are  only  30  cities  of  over  100,- 
000  in  India,  and  they  contain  only  2 per  cent,  of  the 
population,  whereas  in  England  45  per  cent,  live  in  the 
cities.  There  are  730,000  villages  in  India,  remote 
little  groups  of  huts,  hundreds  of  miles  from  a railroad 
or  newspaper  or  white  man,  and  with  an  average  of  363 
inhabitants  each.  The  million  soldiers  that  India  sent 
to  the  European  front  were  recruited  from  these  villages. 
This  army  of  young  men,  sons  and  brothers  of  India 
at  the  front,  must  end  forever  the  isolation  of  these  vil- 
lages. 

Every  young  man  going  out  to  fight  for  the  Empire 
left  behind  him  a wondering  sense  of  where  he  went,  and 
why.  High-caste  women  behind  their  purdahs,  and 
sweeper  women  cleaning  the  village  streets,  all  were 
stirred  by  a new  consciousness  of  the  world  overseas  and 

1 Published  annually  by  The  Times  of  India,  Bombay,  a conserva- 
tive British  daily  paper. 


THE  WAR  CHANGES  THINGS 


23 


roused  out  of  the  age-long  lethargy  which  has  made  India 
so  content  to  let  the  outside  world  slip  by. 

Men  who  were  at  the  front  with  the  Indian  forces 
comment  on  the  eagerness  of  the  Indian  soldier  to  learn 
to  write  and  spell.  He  wanted  to  send  a post  card  mes- 
sage of  his  safety  back  to  the  little  home  in  one  of  those 
730,000  villages.  When  the  letter  reached  home,  his 
family  had  to  hunt  around  for  some  one  to  read  it  to 
them,  for  the  percentage  of  those  who  can  read  and 
write  is  only  about  6 per  cent,  for  all  India. 

Then  came  the  problem  of  sending  word  back  to  the 
boy  in  the  trenches.  There  was  the  public  letter  writer 
on  the  street  corner,  who  writes  a letter  for  a penny,  but 
he  is  being  superseded  by  a suddenly  fired  ambition  ev- 
erywhere to  read  and  write  one’s  own  letters.  More 
potent  than  these  letters  is  the  influence  of  the  men  them- 
selves as  they  return  from  the  front  to  take  up  life’s 
tasks  again. 

They  come  home  different  men.  Fighting  shoulder 
to  shoulder  beside  their  allies,  men  from  all  over  the 
world,  they  have  a new  realization  of  the  nobility  and 
brotherhood  of  mankind. 

The  rigid  caste  rules  of  the  Hindu  religion  keep 
Hindus  in  a peculiarly  extreme  ignorance  of  the  rest  of 
the  world.  Only  born  Hindus  are  eligible  citizens  in 
their  cosmology.  The  rest  of  the  world  is  negligible, 
barbarians  and  outcastes,  whose  very  touch  is  defiling. 
Strict  rules  forbid  an  orthodox  Hindu’s  crossing  the 
ocean  to  visit  other  lands.  He  may  not  eat  with  a mem- 
ber of  another  caste,  and  his  food  may  be  prepared  only 
by  members  of  his  own  caste.  It  is  in  defiance  of  these 
rules  that  young  Indian  students  venture  out  to  attend 
English  and  foreign  universities.  On  their  return,  in 


24 


India’s  silent  revolution 


order  to  be  readmitted  to  their  former  status,  they  must 
submit  to  most  humiliating  propitiatory  rites. 

Keyed  up  to  the  war  spirit  as  India  has  been,  it  is  not 
conceivable  that  Hindu  priests  would  attempt  to  insist 
upon  rigid  caste  rites  with  all  the  thousands  of  returning 
soldiers.  In  addition  to  this  initial  letting  down  of  the 
bars,  the  soldiers  themselves  have  returned  with  a cos- 
mopolitan sense  of  values  and  standards  such  as  it  would 
have  been  impossible  to  carry  into  India  under  several 
generations.  Nursed  in  war  hospitals  by  the  Red  Cross 
nurses  of  the  allied  nations,  they  return  home  with  a 
new  conception  of  the  possibilities  of  camaraderie  be- 
tween men  and  women.  Bivouacked  in  France  and  Bel- 
gium, in  the  country  districts  and  in  the  cities,  they  could 
not  fail  to  observe  many  of  the  elements  which  placed 
European  culture  and  civilization  in  advance  of  their 
own.  They  have  a new  sense  of  the  value  of  education; 
they  have  experienced  the  importance  of  machinery  in 
every-day  life;  in  the  administration  of  their  camps  they 
have  learned  lessons  of  sanitation  and  hygiene;  in  daily 
contact  with  the  young  blood  of  all  the  allied  nations 
they  gained  new  respect  for  the  human  courage  and  gen- 
erosity and  sportsmanship  of  the  world  outside. 

Traveling  through  the  Punjab  in  the  spring  of  1918, 
I ran  across  an  incident  which,  multiplied  by  the  hundred 
thousands,  illustrates  what  is  happening  all  over  India. 
It  was  up  in  the  heart  of  the  Punjab,  1,000  miles  north 
of  Bombay  and  Calcutta.  As  we  came  into  the  village 
we  saw  that  something  unusual  was  going  on.  We 
found  all  the  people  ranged  around  three  sides  of  the 
square  that  makes  the  village  green,  the  men  on  one  side, 
the  women  on  the  other,  and  the  children  across  the 


Mother  learns  to  write  a letter  to  her  boy  in  the  trenches. 
Having  the  kitchen  outdoors  insures  good  ventilation. 


THE  WAR  CHANGES  THINGS 


25 


back  — all  seated  on  the  ground.  Facing  them  stood 
two  young  men  in  uniform,  Indian  soldiers  who  had  been 
boys  in  this  village,  and  were  just  back  from  the  front, 
invalided  home.  One  of  them  had  a pointer  and  was 
drawing  lines  in  the  sand  as  he  explained  where  France 
lay  in  relation  to  India,  and  how  he  sailed  to  reach  it, 
and  where  Germany  was  from  France,  and  England  and 
America.  He  told  them  of  Paris,  and  the  other  cities 
he  had  seen  — of  the  street  cars  and  the  automobiles  and 
the  high  buildings,  of  the  women’s  dresses.  He  de- 
scribed the  furniture  in  restaurants,  and  how  the  meals 
were  served,  and  the  food.  He  tried  to  give  them  a 
sense  of  distance  of  how  big  India  is,  that  he  had  trav- 
eled all  day  and  a night  and  another  day  before  he  even 
reached  Bombay,  and  of  the  days  he  spent  on  the  water 
before  he  reached  France. 

He  told  a story  of  what  may  happen  to  caste  in  the 
trenches  that  must  have  been  an  eye-opener  to  these  low 
caste  villagers.  One  day  the  cook  for  a group  of  Brah- 
man soldiers  was  killed,  and  almost  as  a matter  of  course 
a low  caste  took  his  place.  And  sometimes,  in  the  emer- 
gencies of  war,  the  castes  all  ate  together  quite  promis- 
cuously — a defiance  of  the  most  rigid,  orthodox  law 
which  would  normally  call  for  excommunication. 

Ordinarily  when  a white  man  enters  a remote  village, 
he  is  the  center  of  interest.  Every  one  watches  him  anx- 
iously. Is  he  going  to  collect  taxes?  Or  is  he  a judge 
come  to  punish  them?  On  this  day,  our  group  of  white 
men  entered  the  village,  and  sat  down  on  one  side  of  the 
square  practically  unnoticed.  Every  man,  woman  and 
child  was  completely  absorbed  in  these  two  brothers,  who 
a couple  of  years  before  had  been  just  ordinary  native 


26 


India’s  silent  revolution 


boys  growing  up  in  the  village  and  now  had  come  home 
to  them  with  the  most  extraordinary  stories  they  had  ever 
heard. 

After  the  meeting,  I talked  to  these  boys.  They  were 
fired  with  a sense  of  the  world  outside.  They  were  im- 
pelled to  go  from  village  to  village,  telling  what  they  had 
seen,  spreading  their  new  knowledge  among  their  peo- 
ple. They  had  no  idea  of  making  money  out  of  it. 
They  would  accept  food  for  the  day  and  shelter  for  the 
night,  but  that  was  all. 

This  new  sense  of  world  citizenship,  as  well  as  citi- 
zenship in  the  British  Empire,  has  been  an  important  el- 
ement in  the  Indian  soldier’s  war  experience.  Indian 
troops,  reaching  Marseilles  just  in  time,  reinforced  the 
swaying  lines  of  khaki  which  stood  between  the  Ger- 
mans and  Calais.  That  day  marked  a new  chapter  in 
Indian  history.  It  made  her  a vital  factor  in  the  great- 
est world  movement  of  all  time.  Hitherto,  isolated  by 
oceans  and  the  Himalayas,  she  had  meditated  on  eter- 
nity and  sought  perfection  in  inaction,  in  withdrawing 
from  the  world. 

But  from  the  day  Indian  troops  landed  at  Marseilles, 
through  the  campaigns  in  Mesopotamia  and  Palestine, 
and  the  victories  of  General  Allenby’s  army,  they  have 
“ maintained  the  best  traditions  of  the  service,”  to  quote 
the  measured  tribute  of  the  Mesopotamia  Commission’s 
report  to  Parliament. 

Most  important  of  all,  both  in  its  immediate  results 
and  in  its  portent  for  the  future,  is  the  effect  of  the  war 
upon  India’s  relation  to  the  British  Empire.  It  was  a 
prodigious  coincidence  that  the  war  should  have  crashed 
upon  the  world  at  this  peculiarly  psychological  moment 
for  India.  She  had  been  seething  with  unrest  for  nine 


THE  WAR  CHANGES  THINGS  2J 

years  — ever  since  Lord  Curzon’s  reign  as  viceroy  from 
1899-1905. 

Several  of  Lord  Curzon’s  measures,  notably  the  par- 
tition of  Bengal  and  certain  rather  tactless  phrases  in  his 
speeches,  stirred  through  the  calm  which  had  brooded 
over  India  for  the  fifty  years  since  the  Mutiny  and  cre- 
ated a spirit  of  rebellious  discontent.  This  ripened  into 
bombings  and  assassinations  under  his  successor. 

Indian  unrest  has  expressed  itself  by  individual  acts  of 
violence,  which  have  received  wide  attention  because 
they  are  sensational  and  create  panic.  But  those  fa- 
miliar with  India  reckon  the  quiet,  deeply  growing  sense 
of  national  unity  and  the  movement  for  constitutional 
reform  of  the  last  decade  far  more  significant.  Only  the 
most  radical  of  Englishmen  have  been  radical  enough  to 
sympathize  with  such  ambitions.  “ Little  Englanders,” 
other  Britishers  call  them;  implying  that  any  increase  of 
representative  government  granted  to  India  would  by 
so  much  diminish  the  prestige  of  England. 

It  is  not  fair  to  attribute  quite  all  of  India’s  restless- 
ness to  the  Curzon  administration.  Japan’s  victory  over 
Russia  in  1905  had  thrilled  the  entire  Orient  with  a new 
hope  and  ambition.  Such  a tonic  to  Oriental  pride  was 
the  most  potent  sort  of  stimulus  to  Indian  nationalism, 
following  as  it  did  the  seven  years  of  smarting  under 
Lord  Curzon’s  regime. 

Discontent  had  gone  so  far  in  India  that  the  coronation 
concession,  reversing  Lord  Curzon’s  famous  measure  and 
restoring  Bengal  as  one  province  in  1911,  was  too  late 
to  be  effective.  The  fire  of  discontent  was  still  smoking, 
with  occasional  flare-ups,  when  the  war  broke  out.  Ger- 
many, in  making  her  plans  for  the  war,  undoubtedly 
counted  on  the  disaffection  of  both  India  and  Ireland. 


28 


India’s  silent  revolution 


Oddly  enough,  where  all  other  efforts,  both  concilia- 
tory and  domineering,  had  failed,  it  was  the  war  that  put 
a quietus  on  rebellion.  India  rose  as  one  man,  with 
memorials  of  loyalty  and  devotion  and  with  material 
support.  The  response  was  instantaneous.  Less  than 
seven  weeks  after  England's  entry  into  the  war,  Mr. 
Asquith  in  the  House  of  Commons  stated  that,  more  than 
any  other,  the  message  of  the  Viceroy  of  India,  pledging 
the  unanimous  support  of  princes  and  people,  had  stirred 
the  House  and  the  entire  country. 

Friends  of  India  hope  that  this  new  sympathy  may 
be  permanent  and  find  ground  for  hope  in  the  more  lib- 
eral administration  of  England  growing  out  of  the  war. 
Rumors  of  incompetence  on  the  part  of  the  Indian  Gov- 
ernment resulted  in  the  appointment  of  the  Mesopotamia 
Commission,  which  reported  to  Parliament  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1917  that  the  Indian  Government  had  “ failed  ad- 
equately to  minister  to  the  wants  of  the  forces  employed 
in  Mesopotamia.” 

The  report  was  more  an  indictment  of  the  system  of 
government  in  force  than  of  any  individual.  It  found 
general  “ dissatisfaction  at  the  system  of  microscopic, 
financial  control  exercised  over  details  of  military  ex- 
penditure,” and  it  criticized  the  technique  of  Indian  ad- 
ministration in  such  terms  as  “ astounding  " and  “ the  im- 
possible system  in  force  at  Simla.”  Following  precedent 
in  such  cases,  Air.  Austen  Chamberlain,  Secretary  of 
State  for  India,  resigned.  The  Viceroy’s  term  was  just 
over.  So  the  war  gave  India  a new  slate  of  officials  in 
the  summer  of  1917.  Lord  Chelmsford  was  appointed 
Viceroy,  and  Mr.  Edwin  S.  Montagu,  Secretary  of 
State. 

The  Secretary  of  State  is  the  highest  official  connected 


THE  WAR  CHANGES  THINGS 


29 


with  Indian  affairs.  Stationed  in  London,  he  ranks  even 
higher  than  the  Viceroy  in  Delhi,  and  is  responsible  for 
the  Government  of  India  before  Parliament  and  the 
Crown,  advised  by  a council  of  retired  Anglo-Indian  of- 
ficials. In  connection  with  the  debate  on  the  report  of 
the  Mesopotamia  Commission,  Mr.  Montagu,  who  had 
been  Under  Secretary  of  State  with  Lord  Morley  from 
1910-13,  made  a speech  containing  some  remarkably 
frank  and  outspoken  criticisms  of  British  administration 
in  India.  He  said,  for  instance,  that  “ the  Government 
of  India  is  too  wooden,  too  iron,  too  inelastic,  too  ante- 
diluvian, to  be  of  any  use  for  the  modern  purposes  we 
have  in  view.  I do  not  believe  that  anybody  could  ever 
support  the  Government  of  India  from  the  point  of  view 
of  modern  requirements.  It  is  an  indefensible  system.” 

That  Mr.  Montagu  should  have  been  appointed  Sec- 
retary of  State  for  India  a few  days  after  making  the 
speech  proved  a new  temper  on  the  part  of  the  British 
Government  toward  India.  Nor  did  Mr.  Montagu’s 
criticisms  end  with  his  appointment  to  office.  He  pro- 
ceeded to  India  at  once  to  investigate  conditions  and  work 
out  a program  of  constitutional  reforms,  which  were  pre- 
sented to  Parliament  in  a three  hundred  page  report  less 
than  a year  after  his  appointment.  It  is  too  early  to 
try  to  judge  the  significance  to  India  of  this  sequence 
following  the  war  — her  loyal  response,  the  dramatic 
f alldown  of  governmental  red-tape,  the  report  of  the  Mes- 
opotamia Commission,  and  the  appointment  of  Mr.  Mon- 
tagu as  Secretary  of  State.  But  it  is  from  this  sequence 
of  events  that  the  important  denouement  for  India  must 
follow. 

While  these  contingencies  were  ripening  in  the  polit- 
ical world,  every  soldier  of  the  Indian  Expeditionary 


30 


India's  silent  revolution 


Forces  has  gone  through  a process  of  preparation  for  re- 
turn to  a new  India.  He  has  earned  a new  sense  of  pride 
and  responsibility  in  belonging  to  the  British  Empire. 
It  is  a maxim  of  human  psychology  that  if  you  want  to 
make  a friend  of  a man  you  ask  him  to  do  something 
for  you.  England  asked  India  to  do  something  for  her. 
From  the  King  and  Premier  down,  they  appealed  to 
India  for  help  in  the  crisis;  and  India,  forgetting  the  dif- 
ferences and  political  and  personal  animosities  of  the 
past,  laid  aside  nationalist  propaganda  and  responded  to 
the  call.  All  India  felt  the  thrill  of  helping,  but  espe- 
cially those  men  who  bring  back  from  the  front  a new 
esprit  de  corps,  a new  sense  of  belonging.  If  England 
shows  liberality  and  statesmanship  in  the  adaptation  of 
her  policy  toward  them,  these  men  may  be  leaders  in  weld- 
ing India  into  a new  allegiance  and  devotion  as  a member 
of  the  British  Empire. 


Ill 


FIELDS  AND  FACTORIES 

Mud  walls  a foot  thick,  grass-thatched  roof,  and  dirt 
floor  — this  is  the  home  of  97  per  cent,  of  India’s  pop- 
ulation. In  the  south  the  tiny  huts  nestle  in  luxuriant, 
exotic  greenness,  and  dense  palm  groves  shadow  the  wet 
rice  fields.  Further  north,  on  the  scorched  plains  of  the 
Punjab,  the  sun-baked  mud  cabins  stand  out  stark  and 
brown  in  desolate  fields. 

North  or  south,  most  of  the  huts  have  but  one  room, 
no  windows,  and  one  door.  Usually  the  cooking  is  done 
on  a little  mud  stove  built  against  the  outside  wall  near 
the  door.  If  the  fire  is  built  inside,  the  smoke  must 
find  its  way  out  by  the  door,  or  through  the  roof,  as  they 
have  no  chimneys.  The  clay  floors  are  crusted  with  cow 
dung  mixed  with  clay,  which  hardens  to  a glossy  surface 
like  hardwood,  and  which  lasts  very  well,  as  the  ryots 
do  not  wear  shoes.  The  one  universal  piece  of  furni- 
ture which  serves  as  table,  chairs,  and  cradle  by  day, 
and  bedstead  by  night,  is  the  charpoy  — a simple  frame 
cot  of  poles  lashed  upon  four  legs.  Hemp  rope  or  broad 
bands  of  tape  are  darned  back  and  forth  lengthwise  and 
crosswise,  taking  the  place  of  springs  and  mattress. 
Luxurious  furnishings  of  a home  consist  in  a multipli- 
cation of  these  beds.  Chairs  would  only  be  in  the  way, 
for  crouching  on  the  heels  is  the  customary  mode  of  sit- 
tin"  down.  During  the  day,  these  beds  are  tipped  up  on 

31 


32 


India’s  silent  revolution 


one  end,  except  the  one  which  serves  as  a general  utility 
table. 

There  are  no  attempts  at  decoration  in  ordinary  vil- 
lage homes ; no  rugs,  embroideries,  pictures ; most  In- 
dians are  too  poor.  A nation  with  an  average  income  of 
$20  a year  does  not  have  much  margin  for  ostentation. 
The  well-to-do  ryot,  the  zamindar  (land-owner),  is  dis- 
tinguished by  his  brass  bowls  and  cooking  utensils,  in- 
stead of  earthenware,  and  by  the  value  of  the  gold  and 
silver  bracelets,  anklets,  and  nose  rings  of  his  women- 
folk. Among  the  very  poor  of  the  lower  castes  and 
outcastes,  it  is  customary  to  share  this  one  room  with 
whatever  cattle,  goats,  and  chickens  the  family  are  lucky 
enough  to  own. 

The  village  headman  may  have  a more  elaborate  home, 
with  a couple  of  small  rooms  opening  off  the  main  room, 
and  even  a small  court-yard  in  front  with  an  entrance 
gate.  But  the  extra  rooms  are  generally  used  for  storing 
grain,  and  with  gregarious  instinct  life  crowds  into  one 
main  room.  The  Indian’s  clothing  varies  with  the  tem- 
perature. In  the  south  he  wears  a loin  cloth;  in  the 
north  he  wraps  himself  in  calico  and  the  printed  Indian 
muslins,  which  we  use  for  curtains.  Chapati  is  the  na- 
tional bread  — an  unleavened  pancake,  baked  on  the  out- 
side of  a metal  bowl  inverted  over  the  fire;  pulse  is  the 
ryot’s  potato  and  vegetable  curry  his  characteristic  dish. 

Movies  have  not  yet  penetrated  past  the  cities.  Vil- 
lages are  so  widely  scattered  that  even  wandering  jug- 
glers and  sword  swallowers  rarely  reach  them.  There 
are  two  main  diversions  — marriages  and  funerals.  As 
the  ryot  is  rarely  able  to  save  anything,  he  borrows  for 
these  events  and  runs  up  debts  which,  with  their  accum- 
ulating interest,  hang  over  him  the  rest  of  his  life  and 


FIELDS  AND  FACTORIES  33 

are  frequently  handed  down  from  father  to  son  for  sev- 
eral generations. 

There  are,  besides  these,  two  national  institutions, 
commercial  and  religious  — the  cattle  fair  and  the  an- 
nual religious  festival,  the  mela.  Oriental  fairs  are  a 
custom  handed  down  from  earliest  antiquity,  and  our 
county  fairs  are  their  descendants.  They  told  me  there 
were  200,000  people  present  at  a fair  I attended  in  the 
Punjab.  I could  believe  it.  They  looked  a million  to 
me.  They  have  the  same  red  lemonade,  peanuts,  dust, 
crowds  of  people,  and  live  stock.  But  there  the  resem- 
blance ends.  For  never  could  the  sober  minded  citizens 
of  the  United  States  assemble  such  a blaze  of  color. 
Turbans  of  orange,  salmon  color,  brilliant  greens,  blues 
and  Indian  red,  punctuated  here  and  there  with  shining 
black  hair  and  shaven  heads,  made  a flaming  top  to  the 
picture.  The  mass  of  flowing  robes  of  saffron,  rose 
and  orange,  was  streaked  with  bare  bronze  legs  and  backs 
and  vivid  rags,  while  the  many  white  draperies  glistened 
like  flashes  of  iridescence  in  the  dazzling  sunshine. 

Dust  was  over  everything.  The  grass  was  white  with 
it.  We  ate  and  breathed  and  swallowed  it.  Tent  flies 
were  stretched  over  some  of  the  most  valuable  cattle; 
the  rest  stood  patiently  in  the  sun  and  dust  while  groups 
of  Indians  gathered  round  to  bargain  and  trade. 
Preachers  of  all  religions  distributed  tracts  and  pictures, 
and,  when  they  could  get  an  audience,  made  speeches. 
Crouching  in  the  dust  were  venders  of  betel  nut,  puffed 
rice,  cocoanut  candy,  chapatis,  and  ghee.  Ghee  is  merely 
clarified  or  melted  butter,  and  is  used  universally  in  India 
as  an  offering  poured  over  the  statues  and  shrines  of  the 
gods.  They  make  a special  kind  of  chapati  at  these  fairs 
that  is  very  delicious.  Where  it  puffs  up  in  baking,  they 


34 


India’s  silent  revolution 


split  it  open  and  drop  in  highly  seasoned  curry,  then  roll 
it  and  hand  it  to  you.  In  shape  and  flavor  it  is  not  unlike 
the  hot  tamale  of  which  it  is  perhaps  a remote  ancestor. 
Wherever  there  is  the  smallest  open  space,  snake  charm- 
ers, fire  eaters,  and  magicians  spread  out  their  mats  and 
try  to  cajole  you  into  stopping  to  watch  their  tricks. 

The  village  is  the  unit  of  Indian  life,  and  in  the  past 
it  was  a complete  entity.  Its  occupations  were  distrib- 
uted by  caste,  and  were  handed  down  from  father  to  son. 
Each  village  had  its  own  priests,  its  barber,  blacksmith, 
potter,  washerman,  musician,  carpenter,  and,  most  im- 
portant of  all,  money-lender.  Larger  villages  had  a 
weaver,  cotton  carder,  oilman  (who  ground  oil  from 
seeds),  grain  dealer,  petty  jeweler,  and  shopkeeper. 
These  functionaries  were  at  the  disposal  of  the  village, 
and  received  a regular  salary  to  which  each  member  of  the 
village  contributed  so  many  pounds  of  grain  a year  — all 
except  the  money-lender.  His  services  were  intimately 
personal.  Interest  as  high  as  75  per  cent,  was  frequently 
charged,1  and  while  the  original  was  paid  back  many 
times  over  in  interest  the  borrower  was  rarely  able  to  get 
enough  ahead  to  pay  off  the  capital.  A typical  case  was 
a young  ryot  I knew  who  was  trying  to  discharge  a debt 
which  his  grandfather  had  contracted  to  pay  the  dowries 
of  his  daughters.  His  father  struggled  with  it  all  his 
life,  adding  to  it,  and  this  young  man  accepted  the  bur- 
den as  his  inheritance. 

India  has  always  been  predominantly  agricultural, 
but  even  centuries  ago  her  handicrafts  ranked  high 
among  the  industries  of  the  world.  Some  of  the  oldest 
relics  that  have  come  down  to  us  out  of  the  past  bear 


1 Year  Book,  1917,  p.  476. 


FIELDS  AND  FACTORIES 


35 


the  imprint  of  India.  The  Pharaohs  of  Egypt  used  to 
wrap  their  mummies  in  India  muslin,  and  fashion  their 
jewel  boxes  and  objcts  d'art  from  the  ivory  and  gold, 
tamerind  and  sandal  wood,  of  India.  The  most  diaph- 
anous and  fragile  draperies  the  world  has  ever  known 
were  woven  in  India,  where  in  the  old  days  her  master 
craftsmen  used  to  spend  half  a year  in  weaving  a single 
strip  of  delicate  gossamer.  Tissues  of  evening  dew,  run- 
ning water,  clouds,  smoke,  were  some  of  the  hyperboles 
that  an  enthusiastic  Europe  was  wont  to  bestow. 

It  was  the  fine  linens  and  prints,  the  jewels  and  em- 
broideries of  eighteenth  century  India,  that  enabled  the 
East  India  Company  to  pay  its  bondholders  average 
profits  of  117  per  cent,  for  the  first  eighty  years  of  its 
existence  and  to  sell  shares  of  stock  issued  at  100  for  as 
high  as  500.1  Rivalry  among  European  traders  to  se- 
cure a footing  in  India  was  occasioned,  not  by  her  raw 
produce  but  by  the  variety  and  value  of  her  manufac- 
tures. Dyeing,  rug  making,  fine  embroidery,  metal  work, 
damascening  of  arms,  carving,  paper  making,  and  the 
jeweler’s  art  all  flourished,  and  a considerable  proportion 
of  the  population  were  employed  in  these  industries  until 
the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century.  In  1787  the  city  of 
Dacca  exported  muslin  to  England  to  the  value  of  $1,- 
500,000.  By  1817,  her  exports  had  dropped  to  zero.2 

This  incredibly  abrupt  strangling  of  a great  industry 
had  two  causes  — the  natural  instinct  of  Englishmen  in 
the  first  flush  of  colonial  adventure  to  develop  home  in- 
dustries at  the  cost  of  this  far-away  dependency,  and  the 
unfortunate  coincidence  for  India  of  the  invention  of 
power  looms  and  the  factory  system  at  just  this  moment. 

1 McCauley,  “ History  of  England,”  vol.  4,  p.  244. 

2 Sir  Henry  Cotton,  “ New  India,”  p.  104. 


36 


India's  silent  revolution 


Lancashire  and  Manchester  mills  were  young  and  could 
demand  protection  as  infant  industries.  The  tariffs  im- 
posed were  practically  confiscatory.  Henry  St.  George 
Tucker,  a director  of  the  East  India  Company,  made  the 
statement  in  1823  that  Indian  silks  and  silk  and  cotton 
mixtures  had  already  been  excluded  from  the  British 
markets,  and  that  “ by  the  operation  of  a duty  of  67  per 
cent,  and  also  owing  to  the  effect  of  superior  British 
machinery,  the  cotton  fabrics  of  India,  hitherto  her 
staple  product,  have  not  only  been  displaced,  but  we  are 
exporting  cotton  into  India.  India  is  thus  reduced  from 
the  state  of  a manufacturing  to  that  of  an  agricultural 
country.”  British  goods  imported  into  India  were  taxed 
only  3T2  per  cent. 

In  a fewr  years  and  through  a process  of  crowding  out 
her  peasant  weavers,  instead  of  exporting  fabrics  to  Eng- 
land, India  was  not  even  weaving  enough  to  supply  her 
own  needs.  English  factories  were  able  to  undersell  the 
hand-woven  linens  and  muslins  of  India. 

The  House  of  Commons  appointed  a committee  to  in- 
vestigate the  situation  in  1840.  Sir  Charles  Trevelyan, 
afterward  Finance  Minister,  testifying  before  this  com- 
mittee, told  of  the  city  of  Dacca,  the  Manchester  of  India, 
with  a population  of  150,000  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  and  now,  in  less  than  fifty  years,  reduced  to 
thirty  or  forty  thousand,  “ and  the  jungle  and  malaria 
are  fast  encroaching  on  the  town  — the  distress  there 
has  been  very  great  indeed.” 

Figures  quoted  at  this  hearing  summarize  the  story. 
In  1814,  India  exported  1,250,000  pieces  of  cotton  goods 
to  England;  in  1835,  only  360,000  pieces.  In  the  same 
time  British  exports  of  machine-made  cottons  into  India 
had  risen  from  818,000  yards  in  1814,  to  51,000,000  in 


FIELDS  AND  FACTORIES 


37 


1835.  Even  with  this  balance  of  trade  in  her  favor, 
England  was  still  sending  her  goods  into  India  with  a 
tax  of  only  3^2  per  cent.,  while  she  taxed  Indian  cotton 
goods  10  per  cent.,  silks  20  per  cent.,  and  woolen  goods 
30  per  cent. 

As  the  exportation  of  cotton  goods  fell  off,  that  of 
raw  cotton  increased.  Raw  cotton  exported  for  five  years 
up  to  1813  averaged  nine  pounds.  In  the  five  years  end- 
ing 1838  it  had  jumped  to  forty-eight  million. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  preponderance  of  agri- 
culture, which  is  one  of  the  principal  causes  of  Indian 
poverty  and  maladjustment  to-day.  The  poverty  of 
India  is  undisputed.  The  West  has  no  standards  by 
which  to  judge  such  penury.  No  author  can  adequately 
tell  the  whole  story.  Sir  William  Hunter,  making 
a speech  at  Birmingham  in  1880,  said,  “There  re- 
main forty  millions  of  Indians  who  go  through  life  on 
insufficient  food.”  In  1900  William  Digby,  of  the  In- 
dian Civil  Service,  commented  that  with  an  increase  of 
population  since  1880  of  thirty  millions,  and  a steady  de- 
crease in  average  income,  “ there  are  seventy  million  con- 
tinually hungry  people  in  British  India  at  the  beginning 
of  the  twentieth  century.”  1 Sir  Charles  Elliott  esti- 
mated that  one-half  of  the  agricultural  population  are 
always  hungry.  Two  meals  a day  are  a maximum,  and 
with  hard  times,  this  drops  to  one  meal,  which  is  fre- 
quently cut  to  nothing  at  all  by  droughts  and  famines. 

Sir  James  Meston,  Finance  Minister  of  the  Viceroy’s 
council,  and  ex-Governor  of  the  United  Provinces,  in  a 
recent  speech  in  London  referred  to  India  as  “ the  lowest 
taxed  civilized  or  semi-civilized  country  in  the  world.” 
The  actual  per  capita  tax  is  eight  times  as  high  in  Russia, 

1 “ Prosperous  British  India,”  p.  85. 


38 


INDIA  S SILENT  REVOLUTION 


in  England  twenty  times,  in  Italy  nineteen,  in  France 
twenty-five,  in  the  United  States  and  Germany  thirteen 
times. 

This  oft-repeated  statement  loses  much  of  its  force  in  a 
comparison  with  the  average  incomes  of  those  countries. 
Comparing  the  average  income  of  India  with  that  of 
the  United  States,  our  tax  rate  should  be  twenty-five 
times  as  high. 

William  Digby  reckoned  that  the  daily  per  capita  in- 
come of  four  cents  in  1850  had  fallen  to  about  one  and 
one-half  cents  by  1900.  Conditions  perhaps  speak  louder 
than  estimates.  The  actuarial  calculations  of  insurance 
companies  show  that  the  expectation  of  life  at  birth  for 
an  Indian  is  twenty-two  years,  whereas  it  is  forty-six 
years  for  an  Englishman.  The  duration  of  life  for 
Indians  has  grown  progressively  shorter  since  1891  and 
1901  as  shown  by  census  records.1 

Official  reports,  made  at  the  order  of  the  Indian  Gov- 
ernment some  years  ago,  describe  India’s  destitution  re- 
lentlessly. In  1891,  Mr.  S.  S.  Thornburn,  revenue  com- 
missioner of  the  Punjab,  made  a house-to-house  inves- 
tigation of  conditions  in  an  area  of  about  1,000  square 
miles,  with  a population  of  300,000,  scattered  through 
535  villages.  The  commissioner  reported  that  “ quite 
half  the  old  agriculturists  are  already  ruined  beyond  re- 
demption in  126  villages,”  and  their  farms  had  passed 
into  the  hands  of  the  money  lenders  whom  “ our  system 
is  making  masters  of  the  community."  Mr.  1 hornburn 
reported  that  the  primary  cause  for  borrowing  was  to 
pay  the  land  revenue,  and  the  second  cause  to  buy  seed 
grain. 

1 Census  of  India,  1911,  Actuarial  Report. 


FIELDS  AND  FACTORIES 


39 


The  Hon.  Mr.  G.  Rogers,  Indian  Civil  Service,  and 
member  of  the  Bombay  Council,  reported  similar  condi- 
tions in  his  territory  to  the  Under-Secretary  of  State  for 
India.  He  said  that  in  the  eleven  years  up  to  1890  there 
were  sold  by  auction  for  the  collection  of  land  revenue 
the  occupancy  rights  of  nearly  two  million  acres  of  land 
held  by  840,713  defaulters,  in  addition  to  personal  prop- 
erty to  the  value  of  almost  a million  dollars  (Rs.  2,965,- 
081).  Nearly  60  per  cent,  of  this  land  ( 1,174,143  acres) 
had  to  be  bought  in  by  Government  for  lack  of  bidders, 
although  it  was  supposed  to  have  been  equitably  assessed. 
That  is  to  say,  in  eleven  years,  one-eighth  of  the  entire 
agricultural  population  of  the  district  was  sold  out  of 
house  and  home.  Selling  out  meant  not  only  the  ryot’s 
land  and  mud  hut,  but  his  cattle,  plow,  cooking  utensils, 
beds  — everything  except  the  rags  which  he  and  his  fam- 
ily wore.1 

These  figures  are  old,  but  later  reports  and  my  own  ex- 
perience reaffirm  them.  The  Famine  Commission  of 
1901  reported  that  at  least  one-fourth  of  the  cultivators 
of  the  Bombay  Presidency  had  lost  their  land,  while 
less  than  one-fifth  were  free  from  debt.  After  fifteen 
years  of  personal  knowledge  of  India,  with  residence  and 
travel  there,  I can  assert  that  while  there  is  improvement 
it  is  so  gradual  that  these  general  statements  are  still 
characteristic  of  conditions. 

The  inadequacy  of  such  a standard  of  living  has  made 
India  particularly  susceptible  to  the  famines  which  have 
swept  the  country  in  the  past.  Her  population  had  no  re- 
serve on  which  to  fall  back  when  the  crops  failed.  There 
were  in  the  last  century  thirty-one  wide-spread  famines, 

1 Quoted  by  C.  J.  O’Donnell,  “ The  Failure  of  Lord  Curzon.” 


40 


India’s  silent  revolution 


in  which  32,000,000  men,  women,  and  children  died  of 
starvation.  This  is  equivalent  to  the  entire  population 
of  five  of  the  largest  American  states  — Massachusetts, 
New  York,  Pennsylvania.  Illinois,  and  California. 

Perhaps  the  most  pitiful  part  of  these  famines  has 
been  that,  in  spite  of  the  network  of  railroads  which 
cover  the  land,  at  the  very  time  that  people  were  starving 
to  death  by  hundred  thousands  in  one  province,  the  ad- 
joining province  might  be  exporting  cargoes  of  wheat 
and  grain  to  the  markets  of  the  world.  People  died  of 
starvation,  not  so  much  because  there  was  no  grain  to 
buy,  as  because  they  had  no  money  with  which  to  buy  it. 

Pierre  Loti,  in  his  description  of  famine  in  the  rose- 
colored  city  of  Jeypore,  gives  a wonderful  sense  of  the 
contrasts  of  India,  where  unbounded  luxury  and  star- 
vation brush  shoulders. 

“ What  an  astonishing  and  kindly  caprice  it  must  have 
been  that  planned  a whole  rose-colored  city  where  all  the 
houses,  ramparts,  palaces,  towers,  balconies,  and  temples 
are  of  one  color,  evenly  diapered  with  similar  posies  of 
white  flowers.  One  might  almost  think  that  all  the 
walls  had  been  hewn  out  of  onyx. 

“ I have  never  seen  such  extravagant  luxury  of  super- 
posed colonnades,  of  festooned  arches,  towers,  windows, 
and  balconies.  All,  too,  of  the  same  tint  — a rosy  tint 
whose  color  is  that  of  a flower,  or  of  an  old  silk,  and 
even  the  tiniest  molding,  or  the  tiniest  arabesque,  is  out- 
lined with  a white  thread  graven  in  relief.  It  almost 
looks  as  if  a delicate  tracery  of  white  lace  had  been  nailed 
over  the  piece  of  sculpture. 

“ In  the  middle  of  the  street  there  is  an  unending  pro- 
cession of  armed  horsemen  bestriding  gorgeous  saddles, 
of  heavy  carts  drawn  by  zebras  with  painted  horns,  of 


FIELDS  AND  FACTORIES 


41 


long  strings  of  camels  and  of  elephants  with  gilded  robes, 
whose  trunks  have  been  ornamented  with  complicated 
networks  of  colored  patterns.  Nude  fakirs  covered  with 
white  powder  from  head  to  foot  walk  past,  and  palan- 
quins and  chairs  that  are  borne  on  men’s  shoulders  are 
carried  along. 

“ Servants  lead  tame  cheetahs  belonging  to  the  King 
through  the  streets.  These  are  led  on  slips,  so  that  they 
may  become  accustomed  to  crowds.  They  wear  little  em- 
broidered caps  tied  under  their  chins  with  a bow. 

“ There  are  horrible  heaps  of  rags  and  bones  lying  on 
the  pavement  hidden  amongst  the  gay  booths  of  the  mer- 
chants, and  people  have  to  step  aside  so  as  not  to  tread 
upon  them.  These  phantoms  are  peasants  who  used  to 
live  in  the  surrounding  districts.  They  have  struggled 
against  the  droughts  which  brought  destruction  to  the 
land,  and  their  long  agony  is  imprinted  on  their  incred- 
ibly emaciated  bodies.  Now  all  is  over;  their  cattle  have 
died  because  there  was  no  more  grass ; they  are  hungry 
and  they  wish  to  eat;  that  is  why  they  have  come  to  the 
city.  They  thought  that  people  would  take  pity  on  them 
and  would  not  let  them  die,  and  they  had  heard  that  food 
and  grain  were  stored  here  as  if  to  resist  a siege. 

“ At  this  very  moment  they  are  piling  hundreds  of 
sacks  which  the  camels  have  brought  on  to  the  pavements. 
Room  cannot  be  found  in  the  barns,  so  three  starved  and 
naked  children,  whose  ages  range  from  five  to  ten  years, 
must  be  driven  from  the  place  where  they  had  sought  to 
rest.  The  tiniest  of  the  three  children  seems  to  be  almost 
dead,  for  he  is  motionless  and  has  no  longer  strength 
enough  to  drive  away  the  flies  that  cling  to  his  closed  eye- 
lids. His  belly  is  so  empty  that  it  resembles  the  carcass  of 
an  animal  that  has  been  drawn  for  cooking,  and  he  has 


4 2 


India’s  silent  revolution 


dragged  himself  along  the  ground  so  long  that  at  last  his 
hip  bones  have  rubbed  through  the  skin.  But  they  must 
move  on  elsewhere  so  that  there  may  be  room  for  the 
sacks  of  grain.”  1 

The  British  Government  in  India  has  administered 
famine  relief  on  a colossal  scale  by  providing  work  in 
building  roads  and  digging  canals.  In  July,  1900,  relief 
was  given  daily  to  six  and  one-half  million  persons.2 
That  there  has  been  no  general  famines  since  1900  gives 
hope  that  the  experts  are  finding  out  how  to  check  them. 
For  the  Government  has  heeded  progressive  criticism  and 
set  about  to  prevent  famine  as  well  as  to  relieve  it. 

The  combined  influence  of  government  and  mission- 
ary agricultural  schools,  demonstration  stations  estab- 
lished by  successful  landowners,  and  now  finally  the  ne- 
cessity of  war,  are  not  only  the  most  effective  antidotes  to 
famine  but  are  regenerating  India’s  agricultural  status 
and  raising  the  ryot's  standard  of  living  to  something 
nearer  a conceivable  minimum.  The  work  of  my  friend 
Samuel  Higginbottom,  an  American  missionary,  who  has 
been  appointed  in  charge  of  agriculture  for  the  state  by 
the  Maharajah  of  Gwalior,  is  typical  of  the  new  day. 
Higginbottom,  one  of  Princeton’s  national  football  stars 
and  a post-graduate  of  Ohio  State  Agricultural  College, 
has  sold  to  the  princes  of  India  a realization  of  the  ne- 
cessity of  introducing  agricultural  education  into  their 
states,  just  as  an  American  business  man  goes  out  and 
sells  advertising. 

He  demonstrated  American  weeders  doing  the  work 
of  nineteen  men.  He  showed  them  a machine  cutting 
several  tons  of  grass  in  the  time  it  takes  a ryot  to  cut 

1 Pierre  Loti,  “ India,”  p.  191. 

2 “ Imperial  Gazeteer,”  vol.  3,  p.  492. 


FIELDS  AND  FACTORIES 


43 


enough  to  feed  one  horse  for  a season.  Old-fashioned 
threshing  with  oxen  used  to  cost  50  cents  per  hundred 
pounds.  Higginbottom  threshes  by  machinery  for  6 
cents  per  hundred.  Farm  laborers  in  India  only  cost  8 
cents  per  day,  but  modern  farm  machinery  brings  in  a 
harvest  at  one-third  of  this  cost.  Higginbottom  teaches 
a ryot  how  to  save  4 2^/2  miles  in  plowing  a single  acre. 
He  teaches  him  rotation  of  crops,  how  to  use  manures, 
how  to  build  silos,  and  store  away  food  for  the  cattle 
against  years  of  drought.  As  a result  “ Sam  ” Higgin- 
bottom is  not  only  an  official  of  the  state  of  Gwalior,  but 
he  is  agricultural  adviser  to  the  native  states  of  Ruttan, 
Kotah,  Jalawar,  Dhar,  and  Jaora,  while  through  his 
influence  the  Maharajahs  of  Bikaner  and  Jodhpur  are 
looking  for  American  experts  who  can  give  them  their 
entire  time. 

Indian  princes  under  British  governors  are  opening 
agricultural  schools  under  the  Department  of  Education 
as  rapidly  as  possible.  There  are  experimental  farms  in 
every  province.  A board  of  agriculture  suggests  and  re- 
views programs  of  work,  and  publishes  an  agricultural 
journal.  Several  native  states  are  using  the  same  plans. 
Mysore  has  opened  twenty  rural  schools  in  villages  cen- 
trally located,  where  agricultural  methods  will  be  taught 
along  lines  proposed  by  the  Inspector  General  of  Educa- 
tion of  British  India.  In  Gwalior,  another  native  state, 
the  Gwalior  Agricultural  Company,  organized  by  the  offi- 
cial State  Trust,  has  taken  over  twenty  million  acres  of 
land  for  farming  operations  on  a large  scale.  This  will 
also  serve  as  a demonstration  station. 

No  amount  of  intensive  farming  and  reorganization  of 
her  agricultural  life  wflll  fully  meet  the  situation.  India’s 
great  economic  weakness  is  over-development  of  agricul- 


44 


India’s  silent  revolution 


ture  to  the  exclusion  of  all  industrial  life.  Sir  James 
Meston  referred  in  a recent  speech  to  this  situation: 

. . It  is  a fact  that  90  to  95  per  cent,  of  the  population 
is  engaged  in  agricultural  or  pastoral  pursuits.”  The  pro- 
portion of  those  employed  in  industry  as  compared  with  ag- 
riculture in  India  is  2 to  13,  whereas  in  England  it  is  8 to 
1,  and  even  in  Ireland,  it  is  3 to  4.  With  such  an  abnor- 
mal majority  working  in  the  fields  a community  has  no 
alternative  source  of  income  when  there  is  drought  or  a 
poor  harvest. 

W.  H.  Moreland,  writing  in  the  Quarterly  Review,1 
refers  to  the  “ recognized  poverty  of  India  ” as  the  ac- 
tuating impetus  for  the  present  Nationalist  movement 
and  adds : “ It  is  a matter  of  common  knowledge  that 

the  present  income  of  the  country,  even  if  it  were  equitably 
distributed,  would  not  suffice  to  provide  the  population 
with  even  the  indispensable  elements  of  a reasonable  life. 
This  fundamental  factor  of  poverty  is  unquestionably 
correlated  with  the  undue  preponderance  of  agriculture 
as  a means  of  livelihood.  The  need  of  diversification  of 
employment  insisted  on  so  strongly  by  the  Famine  Com- 
mission of  1880,  only  becomes  more  obvious  with  each 
successive  advance  in  knowledge  of  the  economic  condi- 
tion of  the  country.” 

In  1880,  there  were,  in  all  India,  77  cotton  and  jute 
factories,  employing  65,000  hands.  By  1915  this  had 
risen  to  303  factories,  employing  279,000  persons.  The 
state  industries  of  munitions  and  railways  employed 
about  three-fourths  of  a million,  and  mining  another 
quarter  million.  No  other  industry  in  India  employed 
over  20,000  workers.  That  is,  in  1915,  India,  with  a 


1 April,  1917. 


The  accommodating  charpoy  which  serves  as  bed  by  night  and  as 
settee  or  wall  tapestry  by  day 

This  is  not  an  American  factory,  but  the  laboratory  of  an 
industrial  school  in  Nadiad 


FIELDS  AND  FACTORIES  45 

total  population  of  315,000,000  had  less  than  a million 
and  a half  employed  in  industry. 

The  war  necessity  for  making  India  not  only  self-sup- 
porting but  a source  of  supply  for  the  allied  armies  came 
at  the  psychological  moment.  Her  economic  transition 
has  been  enormously  speeded  up  by  this  new  impetus  to 
Indian  industry.  Swadeshi  has  its  difficulties  to  over- 
come, however.  It  is  conceded  that  the  Indian  is  not  nat- 
urally a business  man.  There  is  the  exception,  the  Bom- 
bay Parsi,  who  has  a genius  for  business.  The  educated 
Indian,  however,  turns  more  instinctively  to  professional 
life,  especially  law.  There  are  a few  successful  Hindu 
and  Mohammedan  business  concerns.  A conspicuous  ex- 
ample of  Indian  management  is  the  Tata  Iron  and  Steel 
Works,  mentioned  in  the  previous  chapter.  These  works 
have  sprung  up  with  American  swiftness  in  the  jungles 
of  Orissa,  where  they  have  laid  out  plans  for  an  indus- 
trial city  of  20,000  people.  They  began  with  a capitali- 
zation of  seven  and  three  quarter  millions,  and  an  In- 
dian board  of  directors  which  engages  American  experts 
to  organize  and  administer  the  works.  Their  inter- 
national headquarters  in  New  York  City  occupies  a suite 
of  offices  thoroughly  American  in  efficiency  and  lavish- 
ness. Already  this  concern  has  branched  out  into  nu- 
merous subsidiary  lines,  and  is  promoting  plans  for  build- 
ing and  construction  work  after  the  war,  which  will  per- 
mit it  to  continue  turning  out  its  war-time  capacity. 

Recently  I saw  an  announcement  in  the  New  York 
Times  by  the  Guarantee  Trust  Company  that  it  had  com- 
pleted arrangements  to  act  as  correspondents  of  the  Tata 
Industrial  Bank  Company,  Ltd.,  of  India.  The  Tata 
Bank  does  a general  banking  and  exchange  business,  but 
its  specialty  is  to  finance  and  develop  industries  in  India 


46 


India’s  silent  revolution 


and  adjacent  countries.  Among  its  interests  is  a hydro- 
electric company  supplying  Bombay  with  40,000  horse- 
power. It  is  now  doubling  the  plant.  The  very  conspic- 
uous and  isolated  success  of  this  concern  suggests  that 
India  may  repeat  our  American  experience  of  fostering 
big  monopolies  rather  than  numerous  small  concerns. 

Infinite  industrial  opportunity  presents  itself  in  such  a 
virgin  continent  as  India.  Her  recent  advance  in  export 
figures  is  due  to  increased  business  since  the  war  in  raw 
and  manufactured  jute,  raw  and  manufactured  cotton, 
and  milled  grains.  Recently  India  has  developed  a large 
export  trade  in  leather,  and  Cawnpore  during  the  last 
year  of  the  war  furnished  all  leather  for  the  boots  and  ac- 
couterments of  British  armies  in  the  East.  This  is  es- 
pecially interesting  in  view  of  the  orthodox  religious  prej- 
udice against  traffic  in  leather  and  against  persons  who 
work  in  leather,  because  the  body  of  the  cow  is  sacred. 
According  to  Hindu  law  all  such  workers  are  outcaste,  and 
are  segregated  rigidly  from  the  rest  of  the  community. 

In  the  great  industrial  development  ahead  of  India,  she 
is  confronted  by  the  menace  which  every  young  indus- 
trial nation  must  face,  of  a terrific  ruthlessness  as  to 
laboring  conditions.  An  official  census  of  wages  pre- 
vailing in  India  was  taken  in  1911.  The  daily  w^age  of 
the  unskilled  farm  hand  in  Bengal  ran  from  4 to  8 cents; 
the  unskilled  city  worker  averaged  5 to  10  cents. 
Among  skilled  workers  there  was  greater  variety. 
Masons  were  paid  12  to  16  cents,  and  in  Calcutta  car- 
penters earned  as  high  as  32  cents.  Wages  in  the  other 
provinces  were  approximately  the  same.1  A table  of 
wages  paid  in  eight  industries  during  1913,  gives  an  av- 

1 Official  report  on  Moral  and  Material  Condition  of  India,  1912- 
13.  P-  124- 


FIELDS  AND  FACTORIES 


47 


erage  daily  wage  of  17  cents.  The  industries  were  cot- 
ton, wool,  paper,  rice,  brewing,  jute,  coal,  and  tea.  With 
the  exception  of  the  last  two,  these  are  skilled  urban 
trades,  and  represent  the  highest  wages  paid.1 

There  is  theoretically  such  a thing  as  an  irreducible 
minimum.  These  wages  seem  to  have  reached  it. 
India's  standard  of  wages  cannot  sink  much  lower  or 
she  will  be  in  the  position  of  the  man  who  had  just  taught 
his  horse  to  eat  sawdust,  when  the  horse  died.  The 
trouble  is  that  when  the  fierce  grind  of  competition  be- 
tween big  industries  seizes  India,  there  will  be  no  chance 
of  raising  this  standard  of  living  and  civilization,  until 
the  first  long  spasm  of  commercial  expansion  and  mon- 
opoly has  passed. 

Judging  by  the  evidence  presented  before  the  Factory 
Labor  Committee  which  sat  in  India  in  1908,  the  grind 
of  competition  is  already  about  as  severe  as  flesh  and 
blood  can  endure.  This  committee  appointed  by  the 
Government  personally  visited  and  examined  all  the 
principal  jute,  cotton,  rice,  and  flour  mills  of  India.  The 
working  schedules  of  these  mills  come  under  two  classes : 
those  which  use  electric  light,  and  those  which  do  not. 
The  “daylight  hours”  mills  have  a hour  working 
day  in  summer  from  5 130  a.  m.  to  7 :30  p.  m.  In  winter, 
this  is  cut  to  1 1 hours.  Mills  lighted  by  electricity  are 
not  subject  to  these  limitations.  The  Calcutta  jute  mills 
open  at  4 :30  in  the  morning  and  run  until  8 130  at  night. 
The  committee  found  that  cotton-ginning  mills  run  12  to 
18  hours  a day  during  the  rush  season,  and  the  rice  and 
flour  mills  sometimes  as  high  as  20  to  22  hours.  It 
is  a general  custom  to  require  the  operatives  to  come  to 

1 Review  of  Trade  of  India,  1913-14,  p.  84. 


48 


India’s  silent  revolution 


the  mills  on  Sundays  and  clean  their  machines,  a task 
consuming  from  three  to  five  hours. 

Because  Indian  cities  are  so  crowded,  many  of  the  op- 
eratives are  forced  to  live  two  and  three  miles  from  their 
work,  involving  a long  walk  before  and  after  hours.  A 
member  of  the  committee,  picking  out  at  random  a child 
of  seven  working  in  one  of  the  mills  asked  him  how 
far  away  he  lived.  He  replied  two  miles,  and  that  he 
had  to  leave  his  home  at  4 o’clock  every  morning  to  reach 
the  works  in  time. 

The  employment  of  children  is  another  evil  which 
threatens  India's  next  generation.  The  laws  are  very 
lax.  Children  over  9 years  may  be  employed  as  “ half- 
timers  ” — that  is  7^2  to  8 hours  a day.  As  soon  as  they 
are  14,  they  may  be  employed  full  time.  Even  these 
conditions  are  grossly  violated.  The  Committee  found 
that  “ children  are  as  a rule  habitually  worked  during  the 
whole  running  hours  of  the  factory,  not  on  the  excuse 
that  they  are  over  14,  but  in  pure  disregard  of  the  law.” 

Of  3,300  “ half-timers  ” examined  by  the  medical 
members  of  the  Committee,  10  per  cent,  were  found  to  be 
less  than  9 years  old.  In  the  jute  mills  of  Bengal  chil- 
dren of  6 to  7 working  8 hours  a day  constitute  30  to  40 
per  cent,  of  the  “ half-time  ” staff.  One  manager  ad- 
mitted that  probably  25  per  cent,  of  the  “ half-timers  ” 
in  his  mill  were  under  9 years  old. 

Almost  the  only  evidence  of  intelligent  consideration 
of  the  human  beings  involved  are  the  laws  affecting  the 
employment  of  women,  which  were  passed  in  1891. 
W omen  may  not  work  more  than  1 1 hours  a day,  and 
they  must  have  a rest  interval  during  the  day  of  1 
hours.  It  is  discouraging  to  find  that  this  official  com- 
mittee consisting  of  six  British  and  three  Indian  mem- 


FIELDS  AND  FACTORIES 


49 


bers,  sitting  as  recently  as  1908,  suggested  the  removal 
of  this  one  poor  protection  for  the  women  who  must 
bear  and  nurse  India’s  next  generation.  The  committee 
recommended  that  the  hours  of  labor  for  women  be  ex- 
tended from  11  to  12  hours,  and  that  the  rest  interval 
be  reduced  from  \l/2  hours  to  l/2  hour.  It  is  only  fair 
to  add  that  a majority  of  the  committee  did  recommend 
a reduction  in  the  working  hours  for  men,  and  certain 
limitations  on  the  employment  of  children. 

Thoughtful  Indians  are  already  awake  to  the  menace 
of  the  situation.  One  Indian  member  of  the  Committee 
filed  a minority  report  of  outraged  protest  against  such 
findings.  Individual  Indians  are  active  in  improving  con- 
ditions. They  bring  to  the  labor  problem  something  of 
that  same  mystical  intensity  which  differentiates  their  re- 
ligion and  their  whole  attitude  toward  life  from  the  Oc- 
cidental. This  is  evidenced  in  an  account  by  M.  K. 
Gandhi  of  his  part  in  a recent  strike  of  10,000  mill  work- 
ers in  Ahmedabad. 

Mr.  Gandhi  became  conspicuous  in  labor  affairs  as  an 
investigator  of  the  shocking  conditions  of  Indian  inden- 
tured labor  in  South  Africa,  and  when  this  strike  came  on 
he  was  appointed  one  of  a board  of  three  arbitrators  to 
settle  the  dispute.  A 70  per  cent,  bonus,  granted  in  the 
fall  of  1917  because  of  plague,  had  suddenly  been  with- 
drawn the  following  spring.  The  mill  hands  at  first  de- 
manded a permanent  raise  of  70  per  cent,  which  was 
later  modified  to  50.  The  mill  owners  offered  20  per 
cent.  The  arbitrators  succeeded  in  inducing  the  workers 
to  compromise  on  35  per  cent.  To  their  chagrin,  the 
owners  refused  to  meet  this  compromise.  Then  Mr. 
Gandhi,  though  a member  of  a joint  board  of  arbitration, 
took  a vow  that  he  would  not  touch  food  until  the  workers 


50 


India’s  silent  revolution 


had  either  won  their  35  per  cent,  or  had  themselves  given 
up  the  strike.  The  strikers  won. 

In  the  Indian  Review  for  April,  1918,  Mr.  Gandhi 
offers  an  apology  for  his  vow,  with  a simple  solemnity 
that  is  somehow  characteristic  of  the  Indian  attitude 
toward  anything  which  he  takes  seriously. 

“ But  the  mill  hands  had  grown  weary  of  the  twenty- 
two  days  struggle,  were  preparing  to  go  to  work  and  ac- 
cept the  20  per  cent,  increase,  and  were  taunting  us  (I 
think  very  properly)  that  it  was  very  well  for  us  who 
had  motors  at  our  disposal  and  plenty  of  food  to  attend 
their  meetings  and  advise  staunchness  even  unto  death. 

“ I felt  that  it  was  a sacred  moment  for  me,  my  faith 
was  on  the  anvil,  and  I had  no  hesitation  in  rising  and 
declaring  to  the  men  that  a breach  of  their  vow  so  sol- 
emnly taken  was  unendurable  by  me,  and  that  I would  not 
take  any  food  until  they  had  the  35  per  cent,  increase 
given  or  until  they  had  fallen. 

“ Before  I took  the  vow  I knew  that  there  were  serious 
defects  about  it.  For  me  to  take  such  a vow  in  order 
to  affect  in  any  shape  or  form  the  decision  of  the  mill- 
owners  would  be  a cowardly  injustice  done  to  them  and 
I would  prove  myself  unfit  for  the  friendship  which  I 
had  the  privilege  of  enjoying  with  some  of  them.  I 
knew  that  I ran  the  risk  of  being  misunderstood.  I 
could  not  prevent  my  fast  from  affecting  their  decision. 
The  knowledge,  moreover,  put  a responsibility  on  me 
which  I was  ill  able  to  bear.  From  now  I disabled  my- 
self from  gaining  concessions  for  the  men  which  ordin- 
arily in  a struggle  such  as  this  I would  be  entirely  justi- 
fied in  securing.  I put  the  defects  of  my  vow  in  one 
scale  and  the  merits  of  it  in  the  other.  There  are  hardly 
any  acts  of  human  beings  which  are  free  from  all  taint. 


FIELDS  AND  FACTORIES 


51 


Mine,  I knew,  was  exceptionally  tainted:  but  better  the 
ignominy  of  having  unworthily  compromised  by  my  vow 
the  position  and  independence  of  the  mill-owners  than 
that  it  should  be  said  by  posterity  that  10,000  men  had 
suddenly  broken  a vow  which  they  had  for  over  twenty 
days  solemnly  taken  and  repeated  in  the  name  of  God.” 

Even  before  the  growth  of  her  industries  had  begun, 
the  cities  of  India  presented  a baffling  housing  problem. 
Into  the  welter  of  crooked  streets  and  unsanitary  habits 
of  an  Oriental  city  these  great  industrial  plants  are  wedg- 
ing their  thousands  of  employees.  Working  from  before 
dawn  until  after  dark,  men  and  women  are  too  exhausted 
to  go  far  from  the  plant  to  sleep,  if  they  can  help  it. 
When  near-by  houses  are  jammed  to  suffocation,  they 
live  and  sleep  in  the  streets.  In  Calcutta,  twenty  years 
ago,  land  had  reached  $200,000  an  acre  in  the  over- 
crowded tenement  districts.  G.  W.  Stevens  describes  it 
vividly : 

“ Calcutta  is  a shame  even  in  the  East.  In  its  slums, 
mill  hands  and  dock  coolies  do  not  live ; they  pig. 
Houses  choke  with  unwholesome  breath ; drains  and  com- 
pounds fester  in  filth.  Wheels  compress  decaying  refuse 
in  the  roads;  cows  drink  from  wells  soaked  with  sewage, 
and  the  floor  of  bakeries  is  washed  in  the  same  pollution. 
What  wonder,  then,  that  the  death  rate  of  the  whole 
city  is  thirty-six  in  the  thousand  — in  one  ward,  forty- 
eight  in  the  thousand.”  1 The  death  rate  for  New  York 
City  and  for  the  United  States  is  fourteen  per  thousand, 
and  in  England,  thirteen. 

War  work  added  to  the  horrors  of  over-crowding,  with 
profiteering  by  the  landlords.  Rents  were  raised  as  much 


1 G.  W.  Stevens,  “ In  India.' 


52 


India’s  silent  revolution 


as  300  per  cent.,  enforced  by  eviction.  Mass  meetings  of 
protest  in  Bombay  resulted  in  government  action,  fixing 
maximum  rents  for  some  of  the  tenements  occupied  by 
artisans  and  laborers. 

Setting  maximum  rental  does  not,  however,  make  more 
room.  Last  winter  in  Madras  they  brought  their  straw 
mats  and  frame  cots  down  on  the  streets  and  slept  there 
by  hundreds.  In  New  York  City  the  police  close  cer- 
tain East  Side  streets  to  traffic  in  the  summer  for  play 
streets  for  the  children.  In  India,  people  themselves 
make  a barricade  across  either  end  of  the  street  with  their 
charpoys  or  cots,  placed  end  to  end.  Inside  these  barri- 
cades the  entire  street  and  sidewalk  is  closely  packed  with 
men  and  women  sleeping  on  straw  mats  or  with  only  a 
blanket  between  them  and  the  pavement.  Even  streets 
that  are  not  barricaded  are  so  crowded  with  sleepers  that 
it  is  impossible  to  walk  through  them.  Industrial  com- 
missions have  been  appointed  to  investigate  and  report  all 
over  India.  At  the  request  of  the  Amir  of  Kabul,  a 
commission  of  British  experts  is  advising  him  on  the 
planning  and  administration  of  woolen  mills,  tanneries, 
and  leather  factories  in  his  state. 

The  Maharajah  of  Travancore  has  appointed  a Euro- 
pean expert  to  make  an  industrial  survey  of  his  state  and 
draw  up  a program  for  industrial  and  technical  education. 
A Government  Industrial  Commission  held  protracted 
hearings  in  Bombay  during  the  winter  of  1917.  Re- 
peated emphasis  was  given  to  the  difficulty  of  obtaining 
capital  in  India  for  new  enterprises.  As  one  witness  put 
it,  “ It  is  not  difficult  to  raise  capital  for  concerns  similar 
to  those  already  existing,  as  the  cotton  mills  in  Bombay 
or  the  jute  mills  in  Calcutta.  It  is  most  difficult  to  raise 
capital  for  a new  industry,  small  or  large.  Investors  are 


FIELDS  AND  FACTORIES 


53 


nervous  and  will  not  tread  unknown  paths.  This  is  ag- 
gravated by  the  fact  that  the  savings  of  the  people  are 
small;  the  standard  of  comfort  is  low;  investors  are  few, 
nervous  and  suspicious;  the  average  rate  of  interest  is 
much  higher  than  in  other  industrial  countries;  no  local 
capital  is  available  for  strictly  local  industries,  as  laun- 
dries, gas  works  and  tramways.”  1 

The  old  Hindu  custom  of  hoarding  money  handicaps 
industrial  expansion.  This  is  an  Indian  habit  which  fills 
British  statesmen  with  despair.  India  is  called  the  sink 
of  precious  metals.  I had  the  privilege  of  being  taken 
through  the  treasure  vaults  of  one  of  the  wealthiest  Ma- 
harajahs. I could  have  plunged  my  arm  to  the  shoulder 
in  great  silver  caskets  filled  with  diamonds,  pearls,  em- 
eralds, rubies.  The  walls  were  studded  with  hooks  and 
on  each  pair  of  hooks  rested  gold  bars  three  to  four  feet 
long  and  two  inches  across.  I stood  by  a great  cask 
of  diamonds,  and  picking  up  a handful  let  them  drop 
slowly  from  between  my  fingers,  sparkling  and  glistening 
like  drops  of  water  in  sunlight. 

There  are  some  seven  hundred  native  states,  and  the 
rulers  of  every  one  has  his  treasure  vaults  on  a more  or 
less  elaborate  scale.  Besides  these,  every  zamandar  and 
every  Indian  of  high  or  low  degree  who  can  save  any- 
thing, wants  to  have  it  by  him  in  actual  metal ; he  distrusts 
this  new-fangled  paper  currency  that  they  try  to  pass  off 
on  him.  Sometimes  he  beats  his  coins  into  bangles 
for  his  wives,  and  sometimes  he  hides  money  behind  a 
loose  brick  or  under  a flat  stone  in  the  bottom  of  the  oven, 
or  he  goes  out  and  digs  a little  hole  and  buries  it.  This 
explains  India’s  chronic  scarcity  of  silver  which  became  so 

1 The  Pioneer,  November  30,  1917. 


54 


India’s  silent  revolution 


acute  last  spring  as  to  threaten  panic,  following  a flurry 
of  war-time  prosperity  and  an  advance  in  value  of  the 
rupee  from  one  shilling  four  pence  to  one  shilling  seven 
pence.  The  United  States  came  to  the  rescue  with  an 
act  of  Congress  whereby  we  melted  down  100,000,000  of 
our  old  silver  cart  wheels  and  released  altogether  $200,- 
000,000  from  our  silver  reserve,  shipping  it  to  India  just 
in  the  nick  of  time  to  relieve  the  stringency. 

The  spread  of  cooperative  credit  societies  promises  to 
circumvent  both  the  hoarding  habit  and  the  extortions 
of  the  money  lender,  as  well  as  to  create  reserves  available 
for  small  industrial  enterprises. 

The  conspicuous  success  of  the  cooperative  movement 
in  rural  districts  all  over  Europe  led  British  officials  to  be- 
lieve that  it  would  be  helpful  here,  and  several  efforts 
were  made  to  introduce  the  scheme  prior  to  the  famines 
of  1898  to  1900.  The  Famine  Commission  of  1901  rec- 
ommended such  action,  and  the  Cooperative  Credit  So- 
cieties Act  was  put  through  in  1904.  Any  group  of  ten 
persons  living  in  the  same  village  may  start  a society  for 
the  purpose  of  raising  funds  from  the  deposits  of  mem- 
bers and  distributing  them  by  loans  to  members.  As  the 
schoolmaster  or  accountant  is  usually  the  only  literate 
person  in  a village,  he  is  generally  secretary  of  the  society. 
In  1916  The  Servants  of  India  organized  training  classes 
for  secretaries  in  Bombay.  Thirty  selected  secretaries  at- 
tended, their  expenses  paid  by  Government.  These 
classes,  in  addition  to  training  men  in  the  actual  work  of 
keeping  books  and  granting  loans,  attempt  to  kindle  in 
them  a sense  of  the  constructive  possibilities  of  their  posi- 
tion. They  inspire  these  men,  scattered  through  all  the 
remote  villages  of  India,  to  serve  as  centers  of  stimulus 
and  progress  in  each  community.  They  teach  them  to 


The  American  tractor  breaks  ground  for  the  new  day 

Would  you  know  what  to  do  with  the  plow  and  dices  of  a tractor 
in  a flax  field  in  India? 


FIELDS  AND  FACTORIES 


55 


give  elementary  lessons  in  sanitation,  scientific  farming, 
the  use  of  simple  machinery,  and  especially  they  urge  the 
men  to  impress  their  people  with  the  value  of  education 
itself. 

The  agricultural  societies  make  loans  for  the  purchase 
of  stock,  fodder,  seed,  manure,  the  sinking  of  wells,  and, 
in  emergencies,  for  personal  maintenance.  There  are 
also  non-agricultural  societies  for  hand-loom  weavers, 
milkmen,  dyers,  basket  and  brass  workers,  and  housing 
societies.  In  June,  1915,  there  were  17,327  societies, 
with  a total  of  825,000  members,  and  a working  capital 
of  nearly  thirty  million  dollars.1  There  have  been  no 
widespread  famines  since  the  establishment  of  these  so- 
cieties, and  it  is  hoped  that  they  will  serve  as  another 
preventive  measure.  Even  the  war  did  not  give  them 
any  appreciable  jolt.  Deposits  fell  off  at  first,  but  the 
Government  tided  over  any  tendency  to  panic  by  an  ad- 
vance of  500,000  rupees  to  the  central  societies,  and  they 
are  now  on  a secure  basis.  Perhaps  their  greatest 
achievement  has  been  in  lowering  the  rate  of  interest 
from  its  former  exorbitant  range  of  20  to  75  per  cent,  to 
a more  nearly  nominal  9 to  18  per  cent.2 

It  is  unfair  to  make  any  sweeping  generalizations 
about  the  economic  conditions  of  India.  The  colossal 
suffering  of  general  famines  is  at  least  diminishing  and 
perhaps  it  is  a thing  of  the  past.  But  the  life-long  tor- 
ment of  bitter  poverty  and  chronic  hunger  is  widespread. 
Financiers  and  statesmen,  removed  by  many  miles  of  red 
tape  from  the  actual  collection  of  taxes,  from  the  grim 
sordidness  or  evictions  and  dispossession,  give  statements 
cheerily  enough  of  India’s  unparelleled  prosperity  as  a 

1 B.  Abdy  Collins,  I.  C.  S.,  Nineteenth  Century,  June,  1918,  p.  1256. 

2 Year  Book,  1917,  p.  487. 


56 


India’s  silent  revolution 


result  of  the  war.  The  New  York  Times  headlines  a 
telegraphic  item  about  India’s  recent  silver  crisis,  “ Vic- 
tim of  her  Prosperity.”  1 The  Indian  Year  Book,  1917, 
summarizing  conditions  for  the  past  year,  says : “ The 

danger  is  lest  India,  absorbed  in  this  material  prosperity, 
should  become  less  alive  to  the  transcendental  ethical  is- 
sues involved  in  the  war.”  2 It  seems  as  if  the  Year  Book 
was  borrowing  trouble ! 

The  Hon.  E.  S.  Montagu  in  a speech  on  his  return 
from  India  in  the  summer  of  1918,  referring  to  the  very 
class  whom  the  war  has  been  supposed  to  benefit,  those 
working  in  the  big  mills,  said  that  “ the  wages  paid  in 
India  are  so  low  that  even  a small  rise  in  the  price  of 
food  or  cotton  may  give  rise  to  serious  disturbance,”  and 
he  added  that  he  does  “ not  think  it  right  that  so  many 
of  the  inhabitants  should  earn  so  precarious  a living.” 

Lord  Sinha  who  has  been  singled  out  for  the  most 
conspicuous  honors  ever  conferred  upon  any  Indian,  may 
be  taken  to  represent  the  conservative  and  pro-Adminis- 
tration  type  of  Indian  statesman.  In  a recent  statement 
given  to  the  Oversea  Press  Center,  he  characterized  some 
of  these  glowing  accounts.  He  said  that  the  statement 
that  India  was  in  a state  of  great  prosperity  at  the  present 
time  “ must  have  been  due  to  some  misunderstanding.  It 
could  not  be  said  that  India  was  prosperous.  One  had 
heard  of  tremendous  profits  by  the  jute  mills  of  Bengal. 
Jute  being  most  essential  for  purposes  of  war,  it  was  no 
wonder  that  jute  mills  made  enormous  profits  and  were 
very  prosperous.  But  it  did  not  follow  that  ryots  were 
for  that  reason  well  off ; in  fact,  the  truth  was  that  during 
the  whole  of  the  war  they  had  been  very  badly  off.  Jute 

1 New  York  Times,  August  23,  1918. 

2 Year  Book,  1917,  p.  1. 


ERRATUM 

Page  57,  third  line  in  last  paragraph,  for  three 
hundred  thousand  read  thirty  thousand. 


FIELDS  AND  FACTORIES 


57 


mills  in  Calcutta  are  exclusively  British,  I might  almost 
say  Scottish,  and  no  part  of  the  profit  made  goes  into  the 
Indian  pocket. 

“ India  is  poor,  and  so  far  as  one  can  see,  if  the  policy 
of  laissez-faire  goes  on,  she  will  remain  poor.  With  a 
law-abiding  and  peaceful  population,  with  a fertile  soil, 
with  unlimited  resources,  there  is  no  reason  why  India 
should  not  be  as  prosperous  as  any  other  part  of  the  Em- 
pire. Who  will  find  a remedy  for  her  poverty?  We 
look  to  England  for  the  answer.” 

The  name  India  once  suggested  fabulous  riches.  She 
gave  us  the  word  Nabob.  Golconda  is  in  Southern  India. 
“ The  wealth  of  Ind’  ” was  proverbial.  India  has  mag- 
nificent natural  resources.  She  produces  two-fifths  of 
the  world’s  total  supply  of  cane  sugar;  one-third  of  its 
total  tea,  tobacco,  rice,  and  cattle;  one-fifth  of  its  cotton; 
and  one-tenth  of  its  wheat.  She  contains  one-fifteenth  of 
the  total  railway  mileage  of  the  world,  and  yet  — one- 
fifth  of  her  population  are  underfed.1 

India’s  poverty  and  her  ill-adjusted  economic  organiza- 
tion should  not  necessarily  be  interpreted  as  an  indict- 
ment of  the  British  Government  in  India.  Some  ele- 
ments of  the  situation  could  have  been  avoided  by  a more 
liberal  and  more  generous  statesmanship.  It  is  scarcely 
fair,  however,  to  demand  of  British  statesmen  of  the 
eighteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries  a perfection  still  far 
beyond  our  twentieth  century  grasp.  The  modern  social 
consciousness  will  produce  new  economic  policies. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  slate,  the  British  administra- 
tors of  India  have  splendid  achievements  to  their  credit. 
They  have  built  300,000  miles  of  railroad.  They  have 
put  nearly  17,000,000  acres  of  land  under  irrigation. 


1 The  Statesman,  1918. 


58 


India’s  silent  revolution 


They  have  given  India  the  beginning  of  an  educational 
system.  They  have  made  headway  against  India’s  two 
most  colossal  and  overwhelming  problems,  famine  and 
plague.  Gradually  they  are  introducing  all  the  complex 
devices  and  labor-saving  machinery  of  modern  life  — 
cold  storage  transport  of  food  and  fruit,  grain  elevators, 
scientific  methods  of  agriculture,  modern  sanitation  in  the 
cities,  cooperative  banks  and  credit  societies.  Trade  con- 
ditions since  the  war  are  hopeful.  Her  total  export  trade 
for  1915-16  was  $775,000,000,  an  advance  of  21  per 
cent,  over  the  previous  year,  while  the  gap  between  her 
exports  and  imports  amounted  to  $295,000,000  as  com- 
pared with  $200,000,000  for  the  previous  year. 

Most  subtly  pervasive  of  all,  the  standard  of  living  in 
the  cities  is  rising.  Indians  in  industry  are  spending 
more  money  on  themselves.  They  are  wearing  more 
clothes  and  of  better  quality.  They  are  putting  on  shoes 
and  carrying  umbrellas  to  protect  them  against  the  burn- 
ing Indian  sun.  While  it  is  quite  the  opposite  of  an  ad- 
vance for  the  temperate  Indian,  the  increasing  amount 
he  spends  on  liquor  indicates  that  he  has  more  of  a mar- 
gin than  in  the  past.  India’s  growing  liquor  bill  is  a 
serious  problem.  Not  only  does  the  Indian  climate  ex- 
aggerate the  influence  of  alcohol  many  fold,  but  the  aver- 
age Indian  is  habitually  underfed  and  cannot  stand  the 
effects.  Consumption  of  liquor  by  an  Englishman,  in- 
heritor of  a tradition  of  three  meals  a day  of  mutton 
chops,  beef-steak  pie,  and  roast  beef  with  Yorkshire  pud- 
ding, is  not  to  be  compared  with  the  effects  on  vege- 
tarian India  with  her  one  or  two  scant  meals  a day.  It 
is  more  comparable  to  the  difference  between  a cocktail 
on  an  empty  stomach  and  a glass  of  liquor  after  a hearty 
meal. 


FIELDS  AND  FACTORIES 


59 


Both  Hindu  and  Mohammedan  religions  forbid  the  use 
of  stimulants,  and  in  the  past  Indians  have  been  remark- 
ably temperate.  But  civilization  exacts  penalties  to  bal- 
ance its  benefits.  When  electric  lights  were  introduced 
into  Indian  cities  in  1896,  the  working  schedules  in  the 
mills  were  at  once  lengthened  from  the  daylight  hours  to 
fifteen  hours  a day.1 

India  is  to-day  in  a state  of  transition.  She  is  pass- 
ing from  a terrifically  overbalanced  agricultural  com- 
munity to  a more  normal  distribution  between  agricul- 
ture and  industry.  Sir  Theodore  Morison,  in  one  of  his 
economic  studies  of  India,  divides  the  nations  of  the 
world  into  two  classes,  those  which  have  and  have  not 
passed  through  their  industrial  revolution.  India  has 
not  yet  passed,  but  she  has  started.  And  because  she  was 
already  peculiarly  disorganized  economically,  she  faces 
unwonted  perils  in  the  process. 

Her  agricultural  system,  the  backbone  and  vitals  of  her 
economic  body,  must  be  thoroughly  overhauled.  In  ad- 
dition, she  must  adjust  herself  to  the  unfamiliar  modes 
of  industry. 

India  was  not  prepared  for  this  abrupt  transition  from 
country  to  city.  The  old  Indian  life,  while  there  was 
much  hardship  and  want,  was  an  easy-going  life.  Every 
one  rose  betimes  and  worked  in  the  early  morning  while 
it  was  still  cool.  Around  noon,  every  one  stretched  out 
for  a nap.  Even  the  animals  lay  down  on  the  shady  side 
of  the  street,  and  the  very  birds  in  the  trees  were  still. 
Then,  as  the  noonday  heat  diminished,  comfortably  and 
casually  India  went  to  work  again. 

Now  the  old  Indian  pastoral  life  is  giving  way,  and 


1 Indian  Year  Book,  1917. 


6o 


India’s  silent  revolution 


families  are  broken  up.  Young  mothers  put  their  chil- 
dren in  charge  of  old  dames  in  the  villages  and  crowd 
into  the  cities  for  this  new  kind  of  work,  coming  back 
to  their  homes  only  for  festivals.  The  glitter  of  city 
streets  at  night  dazzles  these  simple  peasants,  just  as  it 
dazzles  the  Slav  girls  and  boys  whom  we  may  see  on 
Saturday  night  parading  through  the  streets  of  our  New 
England  mill  towns.  Indian  working  women,  intoxi- 
cated by  the  novelty  of  having  money  in  their  own  hands, 
are  buying  tawdry  jewelry,  and  all  the  cheap  manufac- 
tured baubles  with  which  cities  abound  — and  going  with- 
out food  and  shelter  to  pay  for  them. 

India  may  find  inspiration  and  courage  in  the  fact 
that  her  transition  is  taking  place  in  a day  when  all 
civilization  has  been  roused  to  make  the  world  safe  for 
democracy.  The  industrial  excesses  of  the  first  days  of 
machine  production  have  passed,  and  the  civilized  world 
has  learned  — it  is  to  be  hoped  — certain  lessons  in  the 
process.  Sweatshops,  fifteen-hour  working  days,  child 
labor,  unrestrained  competition  — these  are  all  part  of 
the  factory  system’s  Stone  Age.  The  British  Labor 
Party  in  England,  and  progressive  groups  everywhere, 
are  working  for  legislation  to  correct  such  industrial  de- 
bauchery. There  is  ground  for  hope  that  the  theme  of 
democracy  which  ran  through  the  war  may  serve  to 
reenforce  their  demands,  and  that  the  example  of 
progress  in  the  Occident  may  avail  to  save  India  some 
of  the  slow  travail  of  learning  all  the  lesson  by  experi- 
ence. 

Americans  who  accept  without  qualification  President 
Wilson’s  magnificent  definitions  of  democracy  cannot 
doubt  that  the  only  hope  for  India,  as  for  all  the  world, 
lies  in  a democratic  reconstruction  of  her  economic  and 


FIELDS  AND  FACTORIES 


6l 


social  life  from  the  bottom  up.  In  this  reconstruction, 
not  only  economic  abuses  must  go,  but  the  social  also  — 
caste,  the  subjugation  of  women,  child  marriage,  and  the 
segregation  of  a community  of  fifty  million  outcastes. 

It  is  a big  program  — ambitious  as  the  process  of  evo- 
lution itself.  It  is  evolution.  But  it  is  only  by  an  or- 
ganic evolution  from  the  Middle  Ages  of  religious  super- 
stition, industrial  slavery,  and  social  flunkeyism  that 
India  can  build  for  herself  a foundation  of  integrity, 
four-square,  which  shall  make  her  eligible  to  the  great 
company  of  democratic  nations  of  the  future. 


IV 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW 

Caste  and  woman  are  the  two  storm  centers  of  social 
reform  in  India.  Their  status  is  a survival  from  that 
tenth-century  India  which  both  the  war  and  modern  life 
have  jostled  severely. 

The  Hindu  community  is  divided  into  what  have  been 
called  four  “ water-tight  compartments,”  four  castes 
which  in  orthodox  circles  maintain  the  most  rigid  social 
barriers  against  each  other.  There  is  no  intermarriage, 
interdining,  or  personal  relationship  between  them.  A 
low-caste  person  may  not  be  a personal  servant  in  the 
house  of  a higher  caste  because  his  touch  would  contami- 
nate the  latter.  In  Southern  India,  where  caste  has  been 
most  strictly  enforced,  even  the  shadow  of  a lower  caste 
man  defiles,  and  there  is  a graduated  scale  of  distances 
which  the  lower  castes  must  observe.  The  Kammalan 
group  — masons,  blacksmiths,  carpenters,  and  leather 
workers  — pollute  at  24  feet,  toddy-drawers  at  30  feet, 
pulayan  or  Cheruman  cultivators  at  48  feet,  and  Pariahs 
— beef-eaters  — at  64  feet. 

If  a low  caste  crossing  a bridge  sees  a higher  caste 
approaching  the  other  end,  he  must. run  back  and  stand 
to  one  side  at  the  prescribed  distance  until  his  superior 
has  passed.  Men  have  frequently  died  in  famines  rather 
than  accept  food  from  lower  castes. 

Original  castes  were  based  on  the  occupational  divi- 
sions which  go  to  make  class  distinctions  in  every  coun- 
try. After  twenty-five  centuries,  by  incorporating  itself 
into  the  religious  system,  caste  has  become  tremendously 

62 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW 


63 


powerful.  There  were  according  to  the  Census  2,378 
main  castes  in  1901.  The  sub-castes  and  divisions  under 
these  are  innumerable.  Many  are  a result  of  personal 
differences,  quarrels  over  leadership  or  policy,  when  the 
overruled  minority  withdrew  and  started  a new  caste. 
The  majority  are  formed  by  occupations. 

The  four  original  castes  were  the  Brahman  or  priest, 
the  Kshatriya  or  warrior,  the  Vaisya  or  farmer,  and  the 
Sudra  or  tradesman.  Divine  authority  for  this  division 
is  found  in  the  Rig- Veda.  The  Vedas  are  the  oldest  of 
the  Hindu  scriptures,  and  Hindus  assert  that  they  ex- 
isted “ from  before  time  ” — or,  to  be  tediously  exact, 
at  least  since  b.  c.  3000.  As  the  V edas  were  memorized 
and  handed  down  by  word  of  mouth  until  1500  a.  d., 
when  they  were  first  put  in  writing,  there  are  no  evi- 
dences of  inscription  or  parchment  on  which  archaeolo- 
gists may  base  an  estimate  of  their  age.  It  is  generally 
admitted  that  the  Vedas,  if  not  the  very  oldest,  are 
among  the  earliest  of  books.  The  Vedic  story  of  Cre- 
ation runs : 

“ The  embodied  spirit  has  a thousand  heads, 

A thousand  eyes,  a thousand  feet  around, 

On  every  side  enveloping  the  earth. 

Yet  filling  space  no  larger  than  a span. 

He  is  himself  this  very  Universe. 

He  is  whatever  is,  has  been,  shall  be. 

He  is  the  Lord  of  Tmmortality. 

All  creatures  are  one  fourth  of  him,  three  fourths 
Are  that  which  is  immortal  in  the  sky. 

When  they  divided  him,  how  did  they  cut  him  up? 

The  Brahman  was  his  mouth,  the  kingly  soldier 
Was  made  his  arms,  the  husbandman  his  thighs. 

The  servile  Sudra  issued  from  his  feet.”  1 

1 Sir  M.  Monier-Williams’  translation. 


64 


inlia’s  silent  revolution 


This  takes  caste  back  to  the  beginning  of  the  world, 
and  makes  it  part  of  the  scheme  of  creation.  Punish- 
ments prescribed  in  the  Code  of  Manu  for  offenses 
against  caste  are  much  more  rigorous  than  for  other  of- 
fenses. For  stealing  grain  a man  must  go  back  and  be  a 
mouse  in  his  next  life:  for  stealing  brass,  he  is  reborn 
a gander;  but  if  a Brahman  breaks  or  neglects  his 
caste  rules,  he  must  be  born  again  a vomit-eating 
demon.  A Kshatriya  or  warrior  breaking  caste  will 
be  reborn  a demon  feeding  on  excrement  and  dead 
bodies,  and  a farmer  becomes  a demon  feeding  on 
putrid  carrion. 

The  laws  fencing  off  each  caste  from  those  above  are 
also  severe.  If  a Sudra,  or  member  of  the  lowest  caste, 
listens  intentionally  to  a recitation  of  the  Veda,  his  ears 
shall  be  filled  with  molten  tin.  If  he  recites  Veda  texts, 
his  tongue  shall  be  cut  out.  If  he  remembers  them,  his 
body  shall  be  split  in  twain.1 

Apologists  for  caste  emphasize  the  similarity  between 
caste  lines  and  the  class  distinctions  of  European  and 
American  life.  The  essential  difference  — and  it  is  this 
which  gives  caste  such  a fundamental  place  in  Hindu  life 
— is  that,  whereas  in  Christian  communities  religion  is 
opposed  to  class  distinctions,  and  at  least  theoretically 
ignores  them,  in  India  caste  is  one  of  the  basic  facts  of 
religion.  Western  class  lines,  with  all  their  faults,  are 
based  on  rather  indefinite  lines  of  birth,  wealth,  and  some- 
times intellectual  achievement.  The  vagueness  of  these 
lines  in  the  course  of  generations  gives  the  social  life  they 
dominate  a certain  elasticity. 

On  the  contrary,  caste  divisions  are  absolutely  rigid. 
No  man  who  was  not  born  a Brahman  may  become  one. 


1 Gautama  Dharmasutra. 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW 


65 

Men  were  created  intrinsically  different,  just  as  the  horse 
differs  from  the  tiger.  'Enshrined  in  their  religion,  caste 
has  put  itself  “ beyond  good  and  evil,”  leaving  no  mar- 
gin for  the  shifting  of  evolution.  The  Abbe  Dubois 
commented,  “.  . . Hindus  hold  all  their  customs  and 
usages  to  be  inviolable,  for  being  essentially  religious  they 
consider  them  as  sacred  as  religion  itself.” 

In  defense  of  caste,  it  is  argued  that  it  provides  a basis 
for  solidarity  within  each  group,  offering  a natural  unit 
of  mutual  assistance  and  comradeship.  Sir  Bampfylde 
Fuller  attributes  to  her  caste  organization  India’s  power 
of  resistance  to  famine.  “ Indeed  it  might  perhaps  be 
argued  that  caste  owes  its  extraordinary  development 
to  apprehension  of  famine.  Caste  certainly  establishes 
some  such  responsibility  for  relief  as  was  thrown  upon 
English  villages  by  the  Poor  Law  settlement.”  1 

The  trouble  with  these  natural  units  is  that  about  95 
per  cent,  of  the  well-to-do  are  segregated  in  the  two  upper 
groups,  where  comparatively  few  calls  are  made  upon 
them,  leaving  the  other  300  millions  dependent  on  people 
who  are,  in  the  main,  no  better  off  than  themselves.  Such 
a system  is  opposed  to  the  whole  modern  theory  of 
the  brotherhood  of  man.  We  might  as  well  reply 
when  they  solicit  money  for  starving  Europe,  “ Let 
Belgians  feed  the  Belgians,  and  let  Armenians  feed 
Armenians.” 

Caste  is  also  justified  as  a primitive  sort  of  trade  guild 
with  the  advantages  growing  out  of  a craft  spirit  handed 
down  through  generations,  as  well  as  with  the  benefits  of 
trade  organizations  in  a small  way, — surely  in  a very 
small  way,  with  90  to  95  per  cent,  of  the  population  of 

1 “ Studies  of  Indian  Life  and  Sentiment,”  p.  202. 


66 


India’s  silent  revolution 


India  employed  in  agriculture.  As  for  their  efficiency,  if 
they  are  at  all  responsible  for  the  wages  and  standard  of 
living  prevalent  among  the  lower  castes,  India  would  be 
well  rid  of  them. 

Another  defense  of  caste  is  the  theory  that  each  group 
constitutes  a perfect  democracy  in  itself.  The  two  higher 
castes,  though  monopolizing  the  prestige  and  most  of  the 
privileges  of  life,  are  not  exclusively  men  of  wealth. 
Each  caste  counts  its  capitalists,  bourgeoisie,  and  pau- 
pers. Because  wealth  does  not  have  the  same  signifi- 
cance in  India  as  in  other  countries,  a wealthy  landowner 
marries  his  daughter  to  the  son  of  the  poorest  member 
of  his  caste  rather  than  go  outside  of  its  bounds.  It  is 
absurd,  however,  to  attempt  to  find  any  real  democracy 
in  a society  divided  and  subdivided  into  2,378  main  seg- 
ments, calling  each  of  these  a perfect  little  democracy. 
It  is  a misuse  of  the  word  democracy. 

The  mischief  of  the  caste  system  is  so  obvious  that, 
as  William  Archer  says,  “ it  is  like  beating  at  an  open 
door  to  demonstrate  its  evils.”  Perhaps  its  most  per- 
vasive injury  is  the  hatred  it  engenders  in  the  human 
heart.  It  makes  the  upper  caste  hate  the  lower  because 
of  his  injustice  in  taking  this  gross  advantage  of  the  acci- 
dent of  birth.  The  hero  of  Tolstoi’s  “ Redemption,” 
thinking  back  over  the  sins  of  his  life,  realized  that  he 
hated  his  wife  because  of  the  brutal  wrongs  he  had  done 
her  and  that  he  loved  the  gipsy  Mascha  because  he  had 
played  fair  with  her.  The  Brahman  hates  the  Sudra 
because,  subconsciously,  he  resents  the  knowledge  in  his 
own  heart  of  being  so  willfully  in  the  wrong. 

And  the  Sudra  hates  the  Brahman  because  it  is  only 
human  to  hate  those  who  bully  and  take  unjust  advan- 
tage of  the  weak,  whether  they  take  it  by  force  as  pirates 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW 


67 


and  highwaymen  or  under  guise  of  such  higher  sanction, 
as  the  divine  right  of  kings,  and  Droit  de  Seigneur,  or  by 
those  modern  canons,  the  law  of  supply  and  demand  and 
survival  of  the  fittest. 

Caste  has  proved  itself  abundantly  in  the  wrong.  If 
it  were  a valid  system,  it  would  raise  a constantly  increas- 
ing majority  to  a better  standard  of  living  and  to  a higher 
plane  of  life.  Instead,  its  conspicuous  result  is  to 
cheapen  human  life  and  submerge  increasing  multitudes 
in  degradation. 

William  Archer  has  summed  up  the  evils  of  the  caste 
system  briefly  and  comprehensively : “ It  has  enfeebled 

India  politically  by  substituting  class  exclusiveness  for 
solidarity,  class  vanity  for  patriotism.  It  has  impov- 
erished her  physically  by  fostering  a marriage  system 
which  is  thoroughly  unhealthy,  both  in  its  obligations 
and  in  its  restrictions.  It  has  corrupted  her  morally 
by  making  insensate  arrogance  a religious  and  social 
duty.  It  has  paralyzed  her  intellectually  by  forcing  her 
to  occupy  her  mind  with  infantile  rules  and  distinctions 
and  to  regard  them  as  the  most  serious  interests  in 
life.”  1 

The  British  Government  maintains  a neutral  attitude, 
yet,  strange  to  say,  there  are  sometimes  individual  en- 
dorsements of  caste  by  government  officials.  Sir  Michael 
O’Dwyer,  Lieutenant-Governor  of  the  Punjab,  in  a recent 
speech  before  the  students  of  the  Punjab  University  en- 
larged on  caste  “ as  a means  of  reform.”  2 

Commenting  on  this  speech,  the  editor  of  the  Indian 
Social  Reformer  wrote : “To  lean  upon  the  bureaucracy 

for  help  against  orthodoxy  is  as  foolish  and  futile  as  to 

1 “ India  and  the  Future,”  p.  84. 

? Indian  Social  Reformer,  December  30,  1917. 


68 


India’s  silent  revolution 


lean  upon  orthodoxy  for  help  against  bureaucracy.  The 
pujari  at  the  temple  and  the  pujari  at  the  secretariat  are 
blood  brothers.  The  one  is  as  bad  an  idolator  as  the 
other,  though  the  one  worships  stocks  and  stones  and  the 
other  worships  sealing  wax,  red  tape,  and  an  endless  num- 
ber of  codes.” 

The  Indian  Year  Book,  1917,  while  commenting 
harshly  on  the  status  of  women  in  India,  has  gentle  words 
for  the  caste  system,  describing  it  as  “ a democracy  in 
which  the  poor  and  lowly  have  always  the  upper  hand 
over  the  rich  and  high-placed.” 

Reports  from  the  province  of  Cochin  complain  that 
caste  tyranny  is  increasing.  Ezhavas  must  observe  “ dis- 
tance pollution,”  may  not  send  their  children  to  school, 
nor  use  the  government  hostels,  post  offices,  nor  the  roads. 
They  add  that  a large  number  of  new  signs  forbidding 
the  use  of  the  public  roads  have  recently  been  put  up  by 
government  officials.1 

The  influences  working  against  caste  are  numerous  and 
inevitable.  The  common  sense  of  an  Indian  people,  in- 
convenienced by  the  archaic  demands  of  these  old  customs 
battling  against  the  necessities  of  modern  civilized  life, 
constitutes  the  most  powerful  antagonist  to  caste.  Hin- 
dus love  to  travel,  to  make  pilgrimages  to  the  shrines  of 
their  gods.  But  they  are  poor  and  must  travel  cheaply. 
So  the  third-class  carriages  of  Indian  trains  are  usually 
jammed  to  suffocation.  In  flaming  turbans  and  flowing 
draperies,  loaded  down  with  bedding,  food,  dishes,  water 
jugs  and  babies,  they  pack  close  together  into  the  third- 
class  carriages  in  a degree  of  democracy  never  before 
witnessed  in  India.  Bronze  Pariahs  clad  in  a loin  cloth, 

1 Indian  Social  Reformer,  November  4,  1917. 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW 


69 


dignified  Gurus  in  saffron  robes  with  golden  beads  and 
ivory  and  silver  staves,  ghostly  purdah  women  completely 
swathed  in  white  sheets,  with  glass  holes  for  their  eyes, 
austere  Brahmans  in  the  sacred  dignity  of  their  triple 
cord,  all  stow  themselves  away  in  an  economical  con- 
fusion, breathing  the  same  air,  rubbing  shoulders  with 
outcastes,  looking  out  through  the  same  windows  — win- 
dows whose  panes  are  tinted  to  protect  the  eyes  against 
the  glare  of  the  Indian  sun.  There  is  still  an  incongruous 
effort  to  carry  out  the  old  rules.  If  in  the  midst  of  this 
undignified  welter,  a European  or  low  caste  happens  to 
brush  against  a Brahman’s  water  jar  in  passing,  the 
Brahman  with  magnificent  contempt  steps  to  the  door  and 
throws  out  the  polluted  water,  preferring  to  go  thirsty 
for  the  rest  of  his  hot,  dusty  trip. 

Even  so,  the  fringes  of  the  system  must  be  frayed  when 
one  remembers  that  outcastes  were  not  even  permitted  to 
enter  certain  villages  during  the  daytime,  lest  they  cast  a 
shadow  which  might  fall  across  a Brahman.  As  a con- 
cession to  this  modern  spirit,  there  is  appearing  a new 
classification  of  traveling  necessities,  bottled  soda-water, 
ice,  and  biscuits  in  tins,  which  are  non-carriers  of  ritual- 
istic infection.  These  the  “ twice  born  ” may  buy  and 
consume  en  route. 

Politics  too  is  working  against  caste.  Elections  are 
no  respecters  of  castes.  An  occasional  outcaste  educated 
in  a mission  school  and  possessed  of  that  indomitable 
genius  which  carries  through  terrific  handicaps,  is  elected 
to  a provincial  council,  where  he  sits  next  to  the  higher 
castes  and  in  the  routine  of  business  passes  on  papers, 
books,  and  exhibits,  as  they  make  their  way  round  the 
table  from  hand  to  hand.  The  upper  castes  dismiss  this 
as  of  no  importance ; they  keep  up  no  social  relations  with 


70 


India’s  silent  revolution 


him.  Outside  the  council  room,  they  explain,  it  is  a 
mere  matter  of  business.  But  it  is  an  entering  wedge. 

The  war  has  been  an  irresistible  influence  against  caste. 
All  the  soldiers  at  the  front  broke  caste  in  crossing  the 
water,  and  in  the  emergencies  of  warfare  they  have  fre- 
quently been  obliged  to  break  caste  in  eating  and  in  mat- 
ters of  ritual.  If  the  Hindu  priests  dare  not  attempt  to 
enforce  the  rules  of  penance  and  purification  upon  the 
thousands  of  soldiers  returning  from  the  war,  vic- 
torious heroes,  this  laxity  on  the  priest’s  part  will  also 
have  its  effect. 

Reform  influences  working  against  caste  are  mainly 
two : missionaries  and  progressive  Hindus  whose  organ- 
ization platforms  usually  include  anti-caste  planks. 

The  missionaries  have  opposed  caste  from  their  earliest 
days  in  the  country.  The  private  diary  of  Ananda 
Ranga  Pillai,  chief  Dubash  or  factotum  under  the  French 
Governor  in  Pondicherry,  1736-1761,  gives  quite  casually 
a description  of  the  struggle  against  caste  even  then. 
This  diary,  naively  confidential  in  tone,  by  the  ranking 
Indian  official  under  Governor  Dupleix,  the  most  im- 
portant Colonial  Governor  ever  sent  to  India  by  the 
French,  gives  a fascinatingly  direct  and  vivid  sense  of 
those  early  days  of  colonial  adventure.  P;llai  who  was 
not  a convert  to  Christianity,  wrote : 

“ Saturday,  October  16,  1745. 

“ At  8 this  morning  the  church  was  the  scene  of  a re- 
markable occurrence.  The  priest  of  Karikal,  who  is  on 
a visit  to  Pondicherry,  noticed  the  distinction  made  be- 
tween the  Pariahs  and  caste  Christians  when  attending 
to  perform  their  devotions.  A wall  has  been  erected,  as 
a barrier,  on  the  northern  side  of  the  interior  of  the 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW 


7 1 


church.  On  one  side  of  this,  the  Pariahs  collected  for 
worship,  and  on  the  other,  caste  Christians,  Eurasians, 
and  Europeans,  assembled  during  the  service.  This  privi- 
lege was  obtained  by  the  Native  Christians  at  some  former 
time;  and  the  distinction  of  castes  has  been  maintained 
up  to  now.  The  priest  of  Karikal,  however,  was  offended 
at  this  and  instigated  the  Pariah  Christians  living  at  the 
Panni  Paracheri,  the  Big  Paracheri,  the  Burning-ground 
Paracheri,  and  the  Ozhandai  Paracheri ; and  also  the  other 
Pariah  and  toti,  or  village  Pariah  Christians,  to  remon- 
strate. They  all  went  in  a body  to  His  Reverence  the 
senior  priest,  and  complained  in  these  words:  ‘ If  we 

are  really  your  disciples,  it  behooves  Your  Reverence  to 
treat  us  all  alike.  The  Lord  makes  no  distinction 
amongst  his  worshippers.  The  caste  Christians  have, 
however,  thought  fit  to  keep  us  without  the  pale,  and  you 
have  acceded  to  their  demand.  We  submit  that  this  is 
a partial  proceeding,  and  we  request  an  explanation  at 
the  hands  of  Your  Reverence.’  The  priest,  having  lis- 
tened to  all  this,  declared  that  their  complaint  was  just, 
and  immediately  ordered  the  demolition  of  the  barrier 
wall.  Addressing  the  assembled  people,  he  said : ‘ You 

are  all  my  children ; you  may,  at  your  pleasure,  mingle 
with  the  rest  of  the  congregation,  and  attend  divine  wor- 
ship.’ So  saying,  he  dismissed  them  with  his  blessing. 

“ An  evening  service  was  held  to-day  in  the  church. 
No  distinction  of  caste  was  made,  but  Pariahs,  Eurasians, 
Europeans,  and  Tamilians,  all  mingled  together,  and  at- 
tended it.  Native  Christian  females  also  came.  The 
wife  of  Asarappa  Mudall  went  to  the  church,  decked  with 
all  the  ornaments  that  are  worn  by  the  women  of  her 
caste,  and  arrayed  in  muslin  gauze,  which  was  perfumed. 
She  approached  the  altar  where  the  senior  priest  was 


72 


India’s  silent  revolution 


ministering,  knelt  down,  and  was  absorbed  in  listening  to 
his  exhortations.  As  soon  as  he  smelt  the  sweet  odor 
diffused  by  the  lady’s  clothes,  he  stopped  preaching,  held 
his  nose,  thrust  the  cane  which  he  had  in  his  hand  into 
her  hair-knot,  and  angrily  addressed  her  thus : ‘ Art 

thou  not  a married  woman  ? Art  thou  a dancing  woman  ? 
Has  thy  husband  no  sense  of  shame?  Can  chaste  ladies 
appear  at  church,  dressed  in  muslin  gauze,  and  exhibit 
their  limbs,  bosoms,  and  the  very  hair  on  their  bodies? 
Thou  art  a blessed  woman  indeed ! Thou  hast  attended 
divine  service  quite  enough!  Rise,  and  begone  to  thy 
house ! ’ Having  thus  spoken,  he  commanded  her  to  go 
away.  Afterwards,  he  summoned  all  the  caste  Chris- 
tians, and  enjoined  on  the  women  that  hereafter  they 
should  not  dress  themselves  in  thin  clothes,  that  they 
should  not  deck  themselves  with  ornaments  of  the  kind 
worn  by  the  Tamilians,  that  they  should  not  use  any  per- 
fume. Thereupon,  the  Christians  went  in  a body  to  the 
church,  and  argued  the  matter  with  him.  Gavinivasa 
Mudall  came  forward,  and  opposed  any  change  being 
made  in  the  old  order  of  things.  He  said  that  the  recent 
orders  were  not  agreeable  to  the  entire  body  of  the  com- 
munity. Directions  to  expel  this  speaker  by  force  were 
then  given ; when  these  were  about  to  be  carried  out,  he 
stepped  forward,  seized  the  priest  by  the  cloak,  used 
abusive  language,  and  then  departed  saying : ‘ We  will 

not  hereafter  enter  your  church.’  The  Christian  people 
then  complained  to  Kanakaraya  Mudall.  He  pacified 
them,  and  went  to  see  the  priest,  to  whom  he  explained 
the  difficulties  of  the  case,  and  he  consented  to  allow 
things  to  remain  as  they  were.  After  Kanakaraya  Mu- 
dall had  left,  however,  the  priest  went  to  the  Governor 
and  told  him  that  the  Christians  were  rebelling  against 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW 


73 


his  authority,  were  meeting  in  large  numbers,  and  were 
setting  him  in  defiance.  He  begged  that  an  order  com- 
pelling them  to  attend  the  church  might  be  issued.  The 
Governor  sent  for  Krimasi  Pandit,  the  subordinate  chief 
of  the  peons,  and  commanded  him  to  arrest  and  imprison 
any  Christians  whom  he  might  find  assembling  in  a body 
of  four  or  more  persons,  and  talking  with  each  other. 
Thenceforward,  crowds  ceased  to  gather  in  the  streets.” 

A modern  parallel  to  this  old  story  is  the  case  of  a 
group  of  Indian  Christians  who  were  determined  to  have 
the  exclusive  use  of  a section  of  the  church  for  their 
caste.  The  bishop  refused  to  permit  it,  and  they  finally 
went  to  court,  seeking  an  injunction  against  the  bishop’s 
order.1 

The  indirect  influence  of  Christianity  on  caste  is  rather 
curious.  It  is  a truism  that  an  idea,  gradually  permeating 
the  social  order  is  more  powerful  than  fiat.  There  is  an 
Indian  pastor  in  Bikaner  who  came  originally  from  the 
scavengers,  lower  than  the  lowest  caste  — one  of  that  body 
of  outcastes,  or  untouchables,  which  hides  away  in  the 
shadows  and  outskirts  of  India.  As  a boy  he  was  edu- 
cated in  a mission  school,  and,  possessing  that  native  gift 
of  personality  and  wit  which,  given  half  a chance,  tran- 
scends all  castes  and  courts,  he  became  pastor  of  an  impor- 
tant church  in  Bikaner.  During  the  dozen  years  of  his 
pastorate  he  has  baptized  about  2,000  parishioners,  most  of 
them  members  of  the  higher  castes,  not  one  of  whom,  need- 
less to  say,  objected  to  the  touch  of  his  outcaste  hands. 

This  man  took  me  through  the  Maharajah’s  palace  in 
Bikaner,  and  presented  me  to  the  King’s  brother.  Con- 
versation turned  to  a medal  which  had  recently  been  con- 

1 Indian  Year  Book,  1917,  p.  387. 


74 


India’s  silent  revolution 


ferred  upon  the  Maharajah  by  the  King-Emperor.  The 
brother  of  the  Maharajah,  motioning  to  the  Indian 
preacher,  casually  asked  him  to  bring  it  from  the  next 
room  that  I might  see  it.  In  the  old  days,  this  outcaste’s 
shadow  on  the  floor  in  passing  would  have  defiled  the 
whole  room,  and  they  would  have  torn  it  out  and  built 
anew.  To-day,  he  is  worthy  to  handle  a decoration  con- 
ferred by  the  King-Emperor  himself. 

The  Aryan  Brotherhood  has  made  an  interesting  effort 
against  caste.  It  gives  public  dinners  to  which  members 
of  all  castes  are  deliberately  invited.  Names  of  those  at- 
tending are  printed  in  the  papers.  Compromising  with 
the  revolt  against  old  laws,  the  priesthood  have  been  quite 
willing  to  ignore  a quiet  breaking  of  caste  rules,  but  such 
defiance  has  been  an  open  challenge.  In  some  cases  the 
diners  have  afterward  lost  their  courage  and  submitted 
to  the  prescribed  rituals  readmitting  them  to  caste. 
Others  have  held  out  under  the  crudest  pressure. 

Inconvenient  as  many  of  these  caste  customs  are,  com- 
plete and  terrible  ostracism  follows  any  effort  to  revolt 
against  them.  The  fact  that  many  of  the  progressive 
Hindu  organizations  of  to-day  are  campaigning  against 
caste  means  not  that  caste  has  lost  its  hold,  but  rather 
that  these  are  men  of  high  courage,  willing  to  pay  by 
personal  sacrifice  for  their  convictions.  A man  who  per- 
sists in  breaking  rules  is  disowned  by  family  and  friends. 
His  business  associates  frequently  refuse  to  continue  re- 
lations with  him.  As  family  ties  are  especially  strong 
in  India,  this  involves  great  suffering.  One  young  man 
who  had  broken  with  his  caste  used  to  slip  back  home  at 
night  to  see  his  mother  secretly.  His  father  discovered 
it,  and  hired  men  to  lie  in  wait  for  his  son  and  beat  him 
as  he  left  the  house. 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW 


75 


At  a conference  of  Hindus  in  Bombay,  presided  over 
by  the  high  caste  rajah  of  one  of  the  richest  native  states, 
one  of  the  speakers  gave  an  eloquent  and  comprehensive 
summary  of  the  evils  of  caste.  He  said : 

“ Caste  has  produced  disunion  and  discord.  It  has 
made  honest  manual  labor  contemptible  and  retarded 
progress.  It  has  brought  on  physical  degeneracy  by  con- 
fining marriage  within  narrow  circles.  It  has  suppressed 
individuality  and  independence  of  character,  and,  while 
affording  the  opportunity  of  culture  to  the  few,  it  has 
caused  the  degradation  of  the  masses.  The  social  sys- 
tem and  the  whole  tone  of  religious  thought  with  its 
philosophy  of  fatalism  is  against  the  individualistic  self- 
assertion  necessary  to  sucess  in  the  struggle  for  existence. 
It  is  opposed  to  cooperation  for  civic  ideals,  and  it  pro- 
motes indifference  to  life.” 

Because  it  intrudes  upon  every  phase  of  life,  caste  is 
the  conspicuous  center  upon  which  all  reform  agencies 
concentrate  their  efforts.  But  there  are  several  other 
abuses  against  which  they  make  common  cause.  Chief 
among  these  are  the  enormous  proportion  of  illiteracy 
and  the  degradation  of  Indian  women.  They  are  also 
trying  to  eliminate  obscene  and  degrading  elements  in 
the  ceremonial  rites  of  their  religion.  An  attendant  abuse 
is  the  custom  of  dedicating  little  girls  to  the  temples 
in  infancy,  where  they  are  brought  up  nominally  as  danc- 
ing girls  for  the  gods,  but  really  as  prostitutes.  A recent 
resolution  by  the  Nizam  of  Hyderabad  (one  of  the  native 
princes)  states  that  while  the  Nizam  has  no  intention  of 
interfering  with  the  religious  practices  of  his  people  he 
will  not  tolerate  any  person’s  employing  a minor  girl  for 
immoral  purposes  leading  to  his  own  gain  under  a reli- 
gious pretext;  and  that  the  excuse  will  not  be  accepted 


76 


India’s  silent  revolution 


that  a girl  under  sixteen  had  been  dedicated  to  a temple. 

Abuses  in  the  great  religious  festivals  or  melas  invite 
change.  There  are  two  types  of  mela.  Every  district 
has  its  annual  mela,  and  every  twelve  years  there  is  a 
Maha  Mela  (great  mela),  in  which  all  India  joins.  There 
are  numerous  local  fairs  at  the  shrines  of  favorite  deities. 

The  annual  mela  is  not  unlike  the  primitive  religious 
festival  found  in  many  parts  of  the  world.  Men  and 
women  act  out  stories  of  the  Vedas,  impersonating  gods 
and  goddesses  on  the  bank  of  a stream,  or  in  the  natural 
amphitheater  of  some  hillside.  They  prepare  elaborate 
costumes  and  properties  for  these  plays.  Huge,  gro- 
tesque beasts  on  a framework  of  laths  covered  with  gaudy 
paper  and  tinsel  represent  celestial  chargers  and  wild  ani- 
mals, and  take  part  in  Gargantuan  hunting  scenes. 

The  Mohammedans  have  their  religious  festival  every 
fall.  They  build  castles  and  thrones  of  brilliantly  col- 
ored tissue  paper  with  floating  streamers  of  paper  ribbon 
and  tinsel.  These  cardboard  castles,  symbol  of  the  pomp 
and  vanity  of  life,  and  of  all  the  rainbow  and  tinsel 
allurement  of  sin,  are  carried  in  solemn  procession  out 
into  the  woods,  to  the  bank  of  a stream,  where,  with  the 
utmost  ceremony  and  decorum,  they  are  burned,  bear- 
ing away  with  them  into  the  flames  all  the  sins  and  re- 
grets of  the  community  for  the  past  year.  There  is 
a naivete  in  this  simple  congregational  method  of  burn- 
ing up  one’s  sins  that  is  very  appealing.  It  is  a charm- 
ingly direct  expression  of  the  instinctive  human  conscious- 
ness of  sin,  and  aspiration  toward  perfection. 

Very  different  from  the  unpremeditated  spontaneity 
of  these  annual  melas  is  the  Maha  Mela.  I was  in  Allah- 
abad for  the  great  mela  in  January,  1906,  and  it  stands 
out  symbolic  of  all  the  hideous  power  of  primitive  super- 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW 


77 


stition  and  priestcraft  for  ignorance  and  obstruction. 
Allahabad,  at  the  junction  of  two  of  India’s  most  sacred 
rivers,  the  Ganges  and  the  Jumna,  is  an  especially  sacred 
spot  and  a favorite  goal  for  pilgrimages.  It  is  always 
desirable  to  bathe  in  the  mingling  water  of  these  two 
sacred  rivers,  but  on  this  particular  day,  every  twelfth 
year,  special  benefits  are  conferred,  and  the  hearts  of 
millions  of  devout  Hindus  turn  thither  with  yearning. 

In  the  triangle  of  land  below  the  city  where  these  two 
rivers  converge  stands  an  old  stone  fort,  built  in  the  days 
of  Akbar.  It  is  close  to  the  bank  of  the  Jumna,  and  about 
three  or  four  hundred  feet  from  the  Ganges.  Standing 
on  the  wall  of  this  fort  at  sunrise,  I watched  a vast  horde 
of  pilgrims  from  all  India  pushing,  struggling,  forcing 
their  way  down  this  little  neck  of  land,  to  bathe  in  the 
sacred  waters.  The  crowd  had  been  gathering  for  three 
days.  Those  in  the  front  ranks  had  been  standing  there 
for  forty-eight  hours.  They  told  me  there  were  two  mil- 
lion pilgrims.  Allowing  a hundred  per  cent,  for  Oriental 
exaggeration  would  still  leave  a million,  reaching  back 
across  the  sands,  crowding  the  streets  of  Allahabad,  a 
town  of  170,000,  and  stretching  on  beyond  the  town  — 
a dense,  brilliantly  colored  mass  of  humanity,  farther 
than  the  eye  could  see.  Around  the  edges  of  the  crowd, 
below  the  fort,  a cordon  of  mounted  police  with  leather 
and  rope  whips  vainly  tried  to  hold  them  in  bounds.  But 
this  was  something  too  big  and  powerful  for  human  re- 
straint. It  was  a mob  on  a bigger  scale  than  you  may 
ever  see  outside  of  the  Orient,  for  nowhere  else  is  life 
so  cheap,  nowhere  else  are  men  and  women  content  to  suf- 
fer so  complacently.  Most  of  the  younger  women  car- 
ried babies,  hanging  to  them  by  a cloth  tied  around  the 
mother’s  neck  and  passed  under  the  baby’s  arm  pits. 


78 


India’s  silent  revolution 


Fellahs  standing  out  in  the  Ganges  filled  bullock  skins 
with  water,  and,  with  a quick  deft  pressure  of  the  left 
arm,  squirted  the  water  back  over  the  crowd.  Men  and 
women  in  front,  their  lips  dry  and  cracked,  their  tongues 
hanging  out  with  agonizing  thirst,  reached  up  gaunt 
hands,  and  catching  a few  drops  licked  them  up  eagerly. 
The  tension  and  hysterical  emotion  generated  by  such  an 
impassioned  mob  resulted  in  a reaction  and  license  which 
is  beyond  description. 

Standing  above  them,  a sinister  hoarse  roar  came  up 
to  me,  composite  of  the  shouts  of  camel  drivers,  the  oaths 
of  angry  men,  the  groans  of  exhausted  women,  the  crying 
of  little  babies.  Because  the  crowd  was  packed  so  tight, 
it  scarcely  seemed  to  move.  At  scattered  points  there 
were  sudden  flurries,  as  an  impatient  pilgrim  fought  his 
way  forward.  If  in  this  welter  and  shoving  some  one 
stumbled  and  fell,  the  chances  were  poor  for  his  getting 
to  his  feet  again.  Before  he  could  pick  himself  up  he 
was  likely  to  be  trampled  to  death.  Men  and  women 
fainting,  fell  back,  and  lay  underfoot,  until  some  one 
threw  the  body  over  against  the  wall  of  the  fort.  Stand- 
ing there  on  the  wall,  I held  my  watch  in  my  hand  for 
fifty  minutes  while  I counted  one  hundred  and  twenty 
bodies  of  men,  women,  and  babies  picked  up  and  thrown 
against  the  walls. 

Hideous  as  it  is,  the  thing  symbolizes  the  ruthlessness 
of  the  old  heathenism,  which  marks  an  earlier  stage  in 
the  evolution  of  the  world.  If  you  got  in  the  way  of  it, 
it  ground  you  to  powder.  Human  life  had  no  value,  and 
that  is  the  crucial  point.  It  constitutes  the  most  serious 
indictment  of  Hinduism.  Unless  a social  order  recog- 
nizes and  builds  upon  the  fundamental  principle  of  de- 
mocracy, of  civilization  itself  — the  importance  and  value 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW  79 

of  human  life  — how  can  there  be  hope  for  development 
and  growth? 

Over  on  the  far  bank  of  the  Ganges,  naked  Hindu 
priests  in  procession  mystified  their  people  with  weird 
ceremonies.  Rows  of  yellow  tents  streaked  the  white 
sand,  and  in  front  of  each  tent  sat  a holy  man,  his  dis- 
heveled hair  matted  with  hemp,  daubs  of  paint  on  his 
face,  and  the  filth  of  his  naked  body  mute  evidences  of 
his  piety. 

Here  were  gathered  those  curious,  ascetic  freaks  who 
strive  to  express  transcendental  heights  of  spiritual  ex- 
perience by  incongruous  physical  mutilation.  Priests  lay 
for  hours  stretched  out  on  the  sand,  with  no  protection 
against  the  blazing  sun,  their  heads  completely  covered 
over  with  sand,  yet  somehow  managing  to  breathe,  as 
the  quiver  of  their  ribs  gave  evidence.  They  seemed  a 
curiously  futile  human  adaptation  of  the  ostrich  instinct 
to  bury  its  head  in  the  sand. 

Other  devotees  of  holiness  built  fires  at  the  four  cor- 
ners of  little  plots,  some  eight  or  ten  feet  square,  and  sat 
in  the  center,  toasted  on  all  sides  and  by  the  sun  overhead, 
as  though  in  training  for  a literal  interpretation  of  fire 
and  brimstone  in  the  next  world.  Men  who  had  held  an 
arm  stretched  up  above  their  heads  until  it  withered 
and  stiffened  in  the  course  of  years  were  quite  common, 
as  were  men  who  had  not  spoken  for  twenty  and  thirty 
years.  The  bed  of  spikes,  a plain  wooden  bench  with  a 
surface  of  bristling  iron  spikes  on  which  the  priest  sleeps 
by  night  and  sits  all  day,  was  formerly  very  popular, 
but  curiosity  hunters  may  now  pick  them  up  for  a 
trifle.  When  I first  went  to  India  they  were  hard  to 
obtain. 

So  devoutly  does  the  Indian  ryot  believe  in  the  sacred- 


8o 


India’s  silent  revolution 


ness  of  this  twelfth-year  anniversary  and  in  the  efficacy 
of  his  priests,  that  it  is  not  uncommon  for  him  to  sell  his 
mud  hut  and  all  that  he  owns,  in  order  to  bring  a fitting 
offering  to  lay  at  the  feet  of  these  priests.  Then  the 
ryot  and  his  wife  turn  and  tramp  the  long  miles  back  to 
their  village,  collect  their  children  from  the  neighbor  with 
whom  they  left  them,  and  homeless  and  penniless,  pa- 
tiently begin  life  over  again,  apparently  quite  compen- 
sated by  some  inscrutable,  spiritual  ecstasy. 

Reform  organizations  have  undertaken  to  mitigate 
some  of  the  evils  of  these  melas.  Close  beside  the  priests 
they  erect  their  tents.  They  give  elementary  talks  on 
scientific  farming,  sanitation,  and  kindred  subjects. 

At  melas,  as  everywhere  else  in  India,  most  of  the  pil- 
grims carry  their  bedding  and  whatever  food  and  dishes 
they  need  en  route,  under  their  arms.  This  gives  the 
crowd  a lumpy  irregularity  of  appearance,  not  unlike  a 
group  of  emigrants  as  they  land  at  the  Battery.  They 
have,  besides,  a primitive  reminder  of  our  check-room 
system.  A group  leaves  its  joint  belongings  under  a tree 
out  beyond  the  city,  with  a watchman  to  guard  it.  This 
watchman  is  a quaint  offspring  of  the  caste  system,  for 
he  is  a member  of  the  robber  caste.  The  robber  caste 
probably  originated  in  the  fact  that  when  a man  was 
caught  stealing,  he  lost  his  social  position  and  was  out- 
casted.  Such  outcastes,  banding  together  under  their 
headman,  formed  a robber  caste,  which  monopolized  the 
right  of  stealing  in  that  particular  district.  To-day,  when 
a man  wants  his  property  guarded  from  theft,  he  calls  in 
a member  of  the  local  robber  caste  and  pays  him  to  pro- 
tect it  from  his  brother  thieves.  Many  wealthy  Indians 
employ  night  watchmen,  who  waken  them  at  midnight 
with  loud  cries  to  prove  that  they  are  actively  on  the  job. 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW 


8l 


At  first  this  idea  of  a robber  caste  may  seem  ridiculous, 
but  it  is  not  very  different  in  principle  from  the  police 
system  of  our  more  corrupt  cities. 

We  do  not  have  melas  in  this  country.  But  lest  we 
arrogate  too  much  credit  to  ourselves  on  that  account,  it 
may  be  wholesome  to  read  an  Oriental  account  of  some 
of  our  more  primitive  religious  manifestations.  The 
Indian  Social  Reformer  translates  the  following  naive 
description  of  a Billy  Sunday  meeting  from  the  Kaukab-l- 
Hind,  a Hindustani  paper  published  by  the  Indian  Meth- 
odists. 

“ An  account  of  the  methods  of  Billy  Sunday  in  his 
meetings  may  shock  some  people  in  this  land,  where  any 
such  display  is  considered  derogatory  to  the  dignity  of 
our  ministers.  But  those  who  are  reconciled  to  the  ways 
of  the  West  and  have  seen  the  doings  of  Holy  Rollers, 
Pentecostal  Dancers,  Burning  Bush  People,  and  others 
of  that  kind  will  find  nothing  unusual  in  his  movements. 
With  a single  motion  he  fell  flat  upon  the  floor,  face 
downwards,  and  crawling,  snakewise,  to  the  edge  of  the 
platform  he  looked  over  it  and  held  a colloquy  with  the 
devil.  With  a single  bound  he  was  on  his  feet  again; 
with  another,  he  alighted  on  the  top  of  the  reading  desk, 
and,  poised  upon  the  toes  of  one  foot,  in  a Mercury-like 
attitude,  he  addressed  the  heavenly  powers.  The  con- 
clusion of  his  gymnastic  feat  was  greeted  with  circus-like 
applause,  during  which  Mr.  Sunday  vigorously  scrubbed 
his  face,  head  and  hands  with  a large  bath  towel,  a cere- 
mony he  observed  at  frequent  intervals.  He  now  made 
a personal  appeal  to  his  hearers  to  listen  to  his  words. 
He  besought  them,  ‘ not  to  wait  until  the  undertaker  is 
pumping  the  embalming  fluid  into  them.’  Not  far  away 
a young  woman  laughed.  He  flashed  at  her  a string  of 


82 


India’s  silent  revolution 


slang  adjectives,  most  of  them  unintelligible,  though  one 
recognized  ‘ Fizzle-haired  sissy.’  ” 

The  British  Raj  has  made  it  a policy  not  to  interfere 
with  national  and  religious  customs.  Yet  its  indirect 
influence  as  an  agent  of  social  reform  in  India  has  been 
all  pervasive.  Those  devices  of  civilization  which  the 
English  community  has  introduced  into  India  for  its  own 
use  and  for  the  benefit  of  the  Indian  population,  have 
been  so  completely  assimilated  that  it  is  impossible  to 
measure  the  degree  of  their  influence. 

Upon  this  foundation,  the  missionaries  and  the  indige- 
nous reform  organizations  have  built  their  efforts.  The 
missionaries  must  be  given  precedence,  because  they  were 
first  on  the  ground  and  because  the  Samajes  and  other 
organizations  have  either  frankly  or  tacitly  copied  their 
methods.  It  was  Lord  Lawrence  who  said,  “ I believe 
that,  notwithstanding  all  that  the  English  people  have 
done  to  benefit  that  country  (India),  the  missionaries 
have  done  more  than  all  other  agencies  combined.”  And 
it  is  impressive  to  notice  the  courteous  respect  with  which 
nearly  all  writers  on  India  refer  to  the  work  of  mis- 
sionaries, some  of  them  acknowledging  that  they  went 
to  India  with  a prejudice  against  missions  which  had  to 
give  way  in  the  face  of  facts. 

“I  brought  with  me,  I confess,”  writes  William  Archer 
in  “ India  and  the  Future,”  “ a vague  prejudice  against 
the  missionary  and  his  calling,  but  it  did  not  take  me 
long  to  throw  it  off.  . . . Christianity  would  be  for  India 
a half-way  house  to  civilization  — of  that  there  is  no 
doubt.” 

Because  of  the  government  policy  of  non-interference, 
initiative  in  matters  connected  with  religion  has  had  to 
come  from  Indians  themselves.  India’s  native  states  are 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW 


83 


setting  an  encouraging  precedent.  The  Baroda  Caste 
Usages  Bill,  which  is  now  law  in  the  progressive  state  of 
Baroda,  is  an  interesting  example  of  applying  law  to  an- 
cient custom.  By  this  bill,  a person  who  wishes  to  ignore 
or  break  some  custom  of  his  caste  may  obtain  from  the 
court  a declaration  that  that  particular  restriction  is  not 
binding  if  he  can  prove  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  court 
that  the  custom  is;  first,  opposed  to  public  morals;  or, 
second,  restricts  intermarriage ; or,  third,  is  ruinously  ex- 
pensive; or,  fourth,  needlessly  checks  travel;  or,  fifth, 
hinders  the  physical,  material,  or  moral  welfare  of  mem- 
bers of  the  caste;  or,  sixth,  is  disapproved  by  not  less 
than  one-fourth  of  the  adult  members  of  the  caste.  Such 
a decision  of  the  court  makes  the  person  exempt  from 
fine  or  excommunication  by  the  heads  of  his  caste. 

The  native  state  of  Indore  has  passed  a new  Civil  Mar- 
riage Act,  which  allows  any  Indian  who  has  resided  in 
the  state  for  fourteen  days  to  contract  a monogamous 
marriage  with  a member  of  a different  caste.  Indore 
may  develop  into  a regular  Gretna  Green,  as  public  opin- 
ion becomes  educated  on  the  subject. 

Of  Indian  reform  organizations,  the  Brahmo  Samaj  is 
oldest.  It  wras  founded  in  1828  by  Ram  Mohan  Roy,  a 
leader  among  men.  Deeply  religious,  he  rebelled  against 
the  mass  of  pharisaical  observances  which  in  time  tend 
to  obscure  the  truth  of  all  religions.  After  a study  of 
Hindu,  Mohammedan,  and  Christian  doctrines,  he 
founded  the  Brahmo  Samaj,  which  was  primarily  a reli- 
gious movement,  opposed  to  polytheism  and  idolatry;  an 
Oriental  edition  of  the  Unitarian  creed  — Brahmo  mean- 
ing One  God,  and  Samaj,  society. 

Ram  Mohan  Roy  did  not  limit  his  interests  to  religion, 
however.  It  was  he  who  addressed  the  first  remonstrance 


84 


India’s  silent  revolution 


to  the  British  Government  against  the  establishment  of  a 
Sanskrit  college.  He  pleaded  for  an  English  education 
for  the  children  of  India,  thereby  antedating  Macaulay’s 
famous  minute  by  some  twelve  years.  Roy  was  also  pro- 
gressive in  his  views  regarding  the  status  of  women  and 
was  influential  in  the  passage  of  Lord  Bentick’s  Act  for- 
bidding sati,  or  widow  burning.  Roy  was  more  con- 
servative about  caste.  Himself  a Brahman,  he  always 
continued  to  wear  the  triple  thread  which  distinguishes 
the  “ twice  born,”  and  he  wrote  in  defense  of  caste  ob- 
servances. He  even  took  a Brahman  cook  with  him  when 
he  went  to  England,  in  order  to  maintain  his  caste  stand- 
ing as  far  as  possible. 

The  Brahmo  Samaj  has  suffered  the  usual  history  of 
schisms  and  unreconcilable  minorities,  breaking  off  and 
starting  new  organizations.  To-day  it  is  not  a large 
organization,  but  it  includes  many  thoughtful  and  intel- 
lectual Indian  progressives.  Rabindranath  Tagore’s 
family,  particularly  his  father,  was  associated  with  this 
society  in  its  early  days.  This  suggests  an  interesting 
explanation  of  the  remarkable  ideas  expressed  by  this 
modern  seer.  The  two  younger  branches  of  the  Brahmo 
Samaj  require  members  to  break  with  caste  before  join- 
ing them. 

The  Arya  Samaj,  founded  in  1875,  has  grown  rapidly 
to  a leading  position,  and  numbered,  by  the  census  of 
1910,  more  than  a quarter  of  a million  followers.  Like 
the  Brahmo  Samaj,  it  has  a religious  basis.  Its  motto  is 
“ Back  to  the  Vedas,”  and  it  accepts  the  Vedas  as  infal- 
lible. It  is  an  intensely  nationalistic  organization,  em- 
phasizing Hindu  culture,  dwelling  on  the  glories  of  In- 
dia’s past,  and  making  every  appeal  to  racial  pride  and 
self-respect.  It  makes  no  concession  for  superstitions 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW 


85 


■ !itl  false  pride,  however,  and  is  a leader  in  all  phases  of 
-ocial  and  religious  reform.  In  the  words  of  Lajpat 
Rai,  a leader  in  the  movement,  “ The  Arya  Samaj  re- 
pudiates caste  by  birth ; it  considers  the  artificial  barriers 
which  caste  in  India  has  created  to  divide  men  from  their 
fellow  men  as  pernicious  and  harmful.”  1 

Briefly  summed  up,  its  creed  is  based  on  “ the  Father- 
hood of  God,  the  Brotherhood  of  man,  equality  of  the 
sexes,  and  justice  and  fair  play  between  men  and  men 
and  nations  and  nations.”  It  sets  the  minimum  marriage 
age  for  girls  at  sixteen  years  and  for  boys  at  twenty-five, 
encouraging  celibacy  to  a later  age  among  its  members. 

The  activities  of  the  Arya  Samaj  are  important.  The 
extent  and  volume  of  its  school  work  is  exceeded  only  by 
that  of  the  government  and  missionary  forces.  It  or- 
ganized the  first  exclusively  Indian  Orphanage  and 
Widows’  home,  has  its  own  primary  schools  in  many  vil- 
lages, and  has  been  a pioneer  in  social  service  and  reli- 
gious reform  work.  It  also  carried  on  extensive  famine 
relief  during  the  famines  of  1897-1900. 

In  contrast  to  the  Brahmo  Samaj,  which  has  from  the 
first  acknowledged  finding  inspiration  in  the  Christian 
philosophy  and  feeling  kinship  to  Christian  missionaries, 
the  Arya  Samaj  repudiates  Christianity  and  makes  part 
of  its  program  the  reconversion  to  Hinduism  of  Hindu 
converts  to  Christianity. 

The  strong  nationalism  of  the  Arya  Samaj  may  ac- 
count for  this  antagonism.  Educated  Indians  smart  un- 
der the  patronage  and  arrogance  of  a certain  class  of 
Anglo-Indians,  the  class  of  whom  Lord  Morley  was 
thinking  when  he  wrote,  “ Bad  manners,  overbearing 


1 The  Arya  Samaj,  p.  137. 


86 


India’s  silent  revolution 


manners,  are  very  disagreeable  in  all  countries.  India 
is  the  only  country  where  bad,  overbearing  manners  are 
a crime.” 

Unable  to  retaliate  for  these  bad  manners  directly,  the 
Arya  Samajist  builds  up  his  own  self-respect  by  be- 
littling whatever  he  may  in  the  civilization  of  the  master- 
ful Britisher.  Lajpat  Rai  expresses  it  moderately. 

“ In  our  personal  capacity  as  Indian  and  Hindu,  and 
especially  as  Arya  Samajist,  we  hope  that  the  Hindus 
will  be  true  to  the  faith  of  their  forefathers,  and  will  not 
change  their  national  character  so  completely  as  would 
be  involved  by  their  becoming  Christians.”  1 

The  first  Social  Reform  Association,  as  such,  was  or- 
ganized in  Sind  in  1882,  and  the  first  National  Social 
Conference  was  held  the  same  year.  There  are  now 
numerous  provincial  reform  organizations,  with  local 
chapters  representing  single  districts.  An  Indian  Ladies’ 
Conference  has  met  annually  at  the  same  time  and  place 
as  the  National  Conference  since  1904.  The  twentieth 
annual  meeting  of  Madras  Provincial  Social  Conference 
was  held  in  the  summer  of  1918.  The  Indian  Social 
Reformer,  a weekdy,  standing  for  social  and  political 
reform  on  admirably  sane,  broad  lines,  has  been  published 
in  Bombay  since  1890  by  K.  Natarjan.  It  is  printed  in 
English. 

The  subjects  covered  by  the  numerous  social  confer- 
ences include  a wide  field.  The  Bombay  Social  Service 
League  at  its  last  annual  meeting  reported  on  the  follow- 
ing activities : It  attempts  to  spread  education  among 

the  masses  by  free  traveling  libraries,  standing  libraries, 
lantern  lectures,  and  night  classes;  providing  text-books 


*Arya  Samaj,  p.  266. 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW 


87 


and  scholarships  for  poor  students  in  high  schools  and 
colleges.  It  conducts  first-aid  and  home  hygiene  classes, 
and  a charitable  dispensary,  a temperance  club,  educa- 
tional work  in  the  two  Bombay  jails,  and  has  a settle- 
ment house  with  three  resident  workers,  and  the  usual 
classes,  clubs,  and  lectures. 

Social  conferences  almost  invariably  pass  resolutions 
condemning  the  evils  of  caste,  child  marriage,  enforced 
widowhood,  and  the  illiteracy  of  women.  The  Bombay 
Provincial  Conference  at  its  meeting  this  spring,  in  view 
of  the  visit  of  Mr.  Montagu,  urged  the  construction  of  a 
comprehensive  program  which  should  include  reforms 
of  caste,  relations  between  employer  and  workman,  re- 
marriage of  widows,  and  “ the  right  of  girls  to  remain 
unmarried  if  they  choose  to  follow  some  other  useful 
career.’’  It  recommended  the  removal  of  the  ban  on  sea 
voyages  and  the  abolition  of  indentured  labor  in  the 
British  colonies. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  organizations  working  for 
social  reform  is  the  “ Servants  of  India.”  It  was  formed 
in  1905  by  that  greatest  of  modern  Indians,  the  late  G.  K. 
Gokhale,  and  it  reflects  much  of  the  simple  austerity  and 
high  devotion  of  his  life. 

Gopal  Krishna  Gokhale  was  born  of  poor  Brahman 
parents  of  the  highest  caste  in  1866.  He  was  educated  in 
Bombay  and  at  a Hindu  college  in  Poona,  where  for 
twenty  years  he  held  the  chair  of  history  and  political 
economy.  He  early  became  active  in  politics,  and  in 
1 895 'was  elected  secretary  of  the  Eleventh  National  Con- 
gress (Hindu).  He  was  later  elected  to  the  Bombay 
Council  and  to  the  Supreme  Legislative  Council  of  India. 

It  is  impressive  to  note  the  unanimity  of  respect  and 
admiration  with  which  writers  of  the  most  diverse  opin- 


88 


INDIA  S SILENT  REVOLUTION 


ions  speak  of  him.  Conservatives  and  radicals  join  in 
paying  him  tribute.  Sir  Valentine  Chirol,  describing 
some  of  the  leaders  present  at  the  first  meeting  of  the  en- 
larged Viceroy’s  council  after  the  passage  of  the  Morley- 
Minto  reforms,  writes,  “ More  worthy  of  attention  was 
the  keen,  refined,  and  intellectual  face  of  Mr.  G.  K. 
Gokhale,  the  Deccan  Brahman  with  the  Mahratta  cap, 
who  by  education  belongs  to  the  West  quite  as  much  as 
the  East,  and  by  birth  to  the  ruling  caste  of  the  last  domi- 
nant race  before  the  advent  of  the  British  Raj.”  1 Wil- 
liam Archer  describes  him  as  “ a man  of  fine  character 
and  high  ability,  justly  respected  both  by  Indians  and 
Englishmen.  He  will  certainly  be  long  remembered  not 
only  by  Indians,  but  by  all  lovers  of  India  as  one  of  the 
most  authentic  heroes  of  his  race.”  2 

From  his  exile,  under  displeasure  of  the  British  Gov- 
ernment, Lajpat  Rai  writes  of  him  in  high  praise,  “ He 
was  by  far  the  noblest  of  the  moderates.  There  is  no 
one  who  is  even  half  so  good  and  noble  as  he  was.”  3 

H.  W.  Nevinson,  correspondent  for  the  Manchester 
Guardian  in  India,  though  he  wrote  while  Mr.  Gokhale 
was  still  alive  and  active,  summed  up  his  life  most  fit- 
tingly: “ For  every  day  of  his  manhood,  he  has  had  no 

motive  but  his  country’s  service,  from  the  day  of  his  ap- 
pointment on  a salary  of  sixty  pounds  a year  as  teacher 
of  history  and  economics  at  the  Fergusson  College,  up  to 
his  retirement  in  1902  on  a pension  of  twenty  pounds  a 
year,  and  onward  through  the  last  six  years  of  labor, 
vilification,  and  heated  controversy.  Not  a great 
speaker,  and  making  no  attempt  at  emotional  eloquence 

1 “ Indian  Unrest,”  p.  163. 

2 “ India  and  the  Future.” 

3 “ Young  India,”  p.  218. 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW 


89 


at  a time  when  oratory  counted  for  much  more  in  India 
than  it  does  now  — a man  who  has  never  even  contem- 
plated any  popular  arts  except  his  own  inevitable  polite- 
ness, he  has  won  his  influence  upon  his  country’s  future 
simply  by  unreserved  devotion  and  integrity  of  life.”  1 

Consistently  with  the  rigor  and  magnanimity  of  his 
own  life,  Mr.  Gokhale  conceived  the  Servants  of  India  in 
exalted  and  austere  terms.  He  accepted  only  university 
graduates  or  men  who  had  already  distinguished  them- 
selves in  public  service.  A candidate  for  membership 
was  admitted  to  the  home  of  the  order  at  Poona  on  pro- 
bation, and,  if  mutually  acceptable,  began  his  five  years’ 
training  at  a salary  of  $10  a month.  In  these  five  years 
he  must  spend  each  year  four  months  of  residence  in  the 
home  of  the  order,  six  months  in  field  work,  wherever  he 
might  be  assigned,  and  two  months  in  his  own  home. 
Celibacy  is  not  demanded,  but  there  is  a strong  monastic 
tendency. 

A man  joining  the  organization  takes  seven  vows, 
which,  beside  binding  him  to  complete  surrender  of  all 
personal  interests,  pledge  him  to  ignore  caste  distinctions, 
to  lead  a pure  personal  life,  to  limit  himself  to  the  salary 
given  by  the  society  ($16.70  a month),  using  no  part  of 
his  time  in  earning  money  for  himself  or  his  family,  and 
finally  to  consecrate  his  life  to  the  service  of  his  country. 

Briefly,  the  object  of  the  society  is  “ to  train  national 
missionaries  for  the  service  of  India,  and  to  promote  by 
all  constitutional  means  the  true  interests  of  the  Indian 
people.”  Politically,  their  ambition  is  for  self-govern- 
ment within  the  empire,  and  the  unification  of  India.  To 
this  end  they  stress  the  community  of  interest  between 


New  Spirit  in  India,”  p.  35. 


90 


India’s  silent  revolution 


Hindu  and  Mohammedan,  and  the  fact  that  India  cannot 
develop  as  a nation  until  petty  differences  are  submerged. 
It  was  a great  satisfaction  to  Mr.  Gokhale  when  he 
admitted  the  first  Mohammedan  as  a member  of  the 
order. 

The  program  of  work  undertaken  is  all-inclusive:  i, 
rousing  public  demand  for  elementary  education;  2,  ele- 
vation and  education  of  Indian  women  by  propaganda 
work  and  by  building  institutions;  3,  spread  of  the  co- 
operative movement  among  agriculturists  and  mill  hands, 
and  cooperative  secretaries’  training  class  in  Bombay; 
4,  relief  work  in  public  calamities,  plague,  famine  and 
fire;  5,  social  purity;  6,  organization  of  social  reform  in 
social  service  leagues  and  national  conferences;  7,  rous- 
ing public  opinion  as  to  indentured  Indian  labor  in  South 
Africa;  8,  social  sendee  work  among  pilgrims  at  the 
great  religious  melas;  9,  journalistic  work,  controlling 
two  weeklies  and  a daily.  The  organization  disburses 
about  $15,000  a year,  which  they  receive  entirely  in  con- 
tributions. 

In  renunciation  of  all  personal  ambition,  and  in  aus- 
terity of  daily  life,  the  Servants  of  India  demand  an 
exaltation  of  loyalty  which  in  general  only  religious  or- 
ders have  been  able  to  command  in  the  past.  These 
orders  have  in  turn  promised  rewards  in  another  world 
to  compensate. 

The  Servants  of  India  offer  complete  religious  toler- 
ance, and  each  man  is  left  free  to  worship  God  after  his 
own  heart.  But  religion  has  no  official  role  in  the  pro- 
gram of  the  order.  This  raises  an  interesting  question 
as  to  whether,  deprived  of  the  intimate  rapture  of  reli- 
gious conviction,  and  chilled  by  the  loss  of  Mr.  Gokhale’s 
magnetic  personality,  even  so  poignant  a motive  as  love 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW 


91 


of  country  will  generate  sufficient  driving  force  to  in- 
spire succeeding  generations  of  members  and  keep  the 
order  alive. 

Whatever  its  future  may  be,  the  Servants  of  India’s 
present  record  makes  it  memorable.  It  suggests  some- 
thing of  what  India,  grafting  the  education  and  scien- 
tific realism  of  the  West  upon  the  mystical  idealism  of 
the  East,  may  achieve  in  the  future. 

Such  a merging  of  the  complementary  qualities  of 
East  and  West  offers  brilliant  promise.  It  is  character- 
istic of  India,  and  it  is  only  there  that  a merchant  or  pro- 
fessional man  of  middle  age,  having  achieved  worldly 
success  and  surrounded  by  a growing  family,  will  one 
day  suddenly  lay  aside  all  the  cares  and  pleasures  of  this 
life,  and,  wrapping  himself  in  a saffron  robe,  with  a staff 
in  his  hand,  take  final  leave  of  earthly  ties,  and  set  out  to 
wander  for  the  rest  of  his  life  from  holy  place  to  holy 
place,  meditating  on  eternity,  and  achieving  such  degree 
of  Yoga  as  he  may  prove  capable.  This  is  so  common 
in  India  that  it  scarcely  causes  a comment.  There  is  a 
beautiful  self-abnegation  about  it,  but  it  is  marred  to  our 
western  minds  by  a certain  futility.  Our  practical  and 
more  realistic  attitude  toward  life  rebels. 

“ A primrose  by  the  river’s  brim, 

A yellow  primrose  was  to  him. 

And  it  was  nothing  more.” 

Prosaically  we  ask,  what  is  the  use  ? What  good  does 
it  do?  Perhaps,  however,  it  is  this  analytical  attitude 
which  enables  us  to  demand  results  for  our  efforts,  and 
achieve  such  constructive  fulfillment  as  the  conception 
and  gradual  working  out  of  compulsory  education,  sani- 
tation, ultimate  universal  enfranchisement  — in  fact,  the 


92 


India’s  silent  revolution 


very  stuff  of  democracy.  If  so,  the  prosaic  mind  has 
justified  itself. 

In  a merging  of  the  self-abnegation  of  the  East  with 
the  practical  purposefulness  of  the  West  lies  the  distinc- 
tion, not  only  of  the  Servants  of  India,  but  of  the  various 
Samajes  and  other  progressive  Hindu  organizations. 

It  is  this  fusion  of  the  ideals  of  East  and  West  that 
stimulates  the  imagination  to  the  possibilities  before  the 
various  organizations  at  work  in  India.  There  must  be 
give  and  take  on  both  sides.  The  missionary  must  give 
up  his  literal  insistence  on  doctrine;  his  inherent  concern 
over  distinctions  between  orthodoxy  and  heterodoxy. 
The  progressive  Hindu  must  sacrifice  his  prejudices  about 
caste  and  women  and  Christianity  into  a generous  recog- 
nition of  every  instrument  for  the  elevation  of  India. 

K.  Natarajan,  veteran  editor  of  the  Indian  Social  Re- 
former, acknowledged  this  community  of  interest  in  his 
presidential  address  before  the  Bombay  Social  Confer- 
ence of  1918  and  appealed  for  closer  cooperation  between 
Indian  and  Christian  forces. 

“ The  fear  of  the  Christian  missionary  has  been  the 
beginning  of  much  social  wisdom  among  us,  and  even  the 
Depressed  Classes  movement  is,  perhaps,  no  exception  to 
the  rule.  And  let  me  say,  in  passing,  that  it  is  my 
earnest  hope  that  more  than  the  fear,  the  example  of  the 
Christian  missionary,  his  devotion,  his  earnestness,  his 
power  of  organization,  may  in  the  times  to  come  increas- 
ingly inspire  our  social  workers.  And  is  it  too  much  to 
hope  that  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  the  Christian 
missionary  and  the  Indian  worker  will  be  unhampered, 
the  former  by  zeal  for,  and  the  latter  by  dread  of,  mere 
proselytism!  ” 

It  may  be  that  in  this  constructive  mingling  of  East 


The  Yankee  and  the  Indian  make  a good  combination.  Prin- 
cipal T.  C.  Badley  of  Lucknow  College  and  an  Indian  Member 
of  Faculty. 

Future  statesmen  for  India  are  now  seriously  “ doing 
their  sums  ” 


OLD  ORDERS  AND  NEW 


93 


and  West  a new  element  will  be  precipitated ; a new  type 
of  religious  aspiration,  modifying  the  ethics  and  customs 
of  Christianity  to  the  Oriental  mold,  weeding  out  of 
Hinduism  the  elements  which  seem  to  the  Westerner 
wasteful  and  degrading. 

Although  the  Arya  Samaj  as  an  organization  repudiates 
Christianity,  the  two  have  more  in  common  than  perhaps 
either  of  them  realizes.  In  its  watchword,  “ Back  to  the 
Vedas/'  it  is  rebelling  against  an  organized  and  phari- 
saical  expression  of  religion.  Samaj ists  emphasize  the 
simple  ethics  of  the  Vedas;  they  insist  upon  purity  of 
personal  life;  they  devote  themselves  to  altruistic  work; 
they  live  their  love  for  “ the  least  of  these.”  Whether 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  they  have  really  accepted 
and  are  carrying  out  the  principles  and  ethics  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

Ignoring  matters  of  doctrine,  they  are  all,  missionaries, 
Samajists,  Servants  of  India,  working  toward  the  same 
end  — the  breakdown  of  caste,  the  elevation  of  woman, 
the  spread  of  education  — the  material,  mental  and  spir- 
itual advancement  of  India  and  her  people. 


V 


TOUCHING  THE  UNTOUCHABLES 

“ And  in  the  lowest  deep,  a lower  deep.” 

Lower  than  the  Sudra,  in  a lowest  deep  of  their  own, 
lives  a submerged  mass  of  fifty-three  million  outcastes, 
or  Untouchables,  one-sixth  of  the  entire  population  of 
India.  They  are  prohibited  the  use  of  public  roads, 
bridges,  ferries,  temples,  and  they  are  not  allowed  to  live 
inside  the  village  community.  Their  children  may  not 
attend  the  public  school.  Not  only  does  their  touch  de- 
file, but  they  pollute  everything  they  use,  so  they  may  not 
even  draw  water  from  the  village  well.  In  the  tropics, 
where  it  is  often  ten  or  twelve  miles  to  the  next  well,  this 
is  a cruel  hardship. 

In  the  town  of  Kohat  some  five  or  six  years  ago,  the 
two-year-old  son  of  a well-to-do  Hindu  fell  into  the 
well  in  the  court-yard  of  his  father’s  house.  His  father 
was  away,  and  the  women  of  the  family,  not  daring  to  go 
down  after  the  child,  stood  around  the  curbing,  looking 
down  into  the  well  and  screaming.  An  outcaste  sweeper, 
cleaning  the  street  outside,  heard  their  cries,  and,  pitying 
their  distress,  offered  to  climb  down  the  well  and  rescue 
the  child.  The  women  scornfully  refused  to  permit  it. 
Better  to  let  the  little  boy  drown  than  permit  both  well 
and  boy  to  be  forever  polluted  by  the  touch  of  this  out- 
caste.1 

1 St.  Nihal  Singh,  Contemporary  Review,  March,  1913. 

94 


TOUCHING  THE  UNTOUCHABLES 


95 


Outcastes,  or  Pariahs,  live  in  a degree  of  poverty  which 
surpasses  any  western  imagining.  The  “ paracheri  ” 
(place  of  Pariahs)  outside  the  village  is  a little  group  of 
filthy,  one-room  hovels.  They  have  little  or  no  furniture, 
many  of  them  do  not  even  have  straw  mats  or  rags  on 
which  to  sleep,  but  when  the  nights  are  cold  they  snuggle 
up  against  the  sides  of  the  bullock  or  cow  with  whom  they 
share  their  home.  The  census  of  1901  recorded  99.5  per 
cent,  of  them  as  unable  to  read  and  write.  This  means 
that  not  even  one  man  in  the  community  is  able  to  protect 
their  interests  against  the  dishonesty  of  money  lenders 
and  tax  collectors. 

In  time  of  famine  they  are  first  to  suffer.  Some  of 
their  groups  eat  carrion  and  rats,  and  when  an  animal 
falls  dead  in  the  fields  I have  seen  them  swarming  around 
the  body,  hacking  off  pieces  of  meat  and  carrying  it  home. 
Their  willingness  to  eat  meat  is  one  of  the  customs  that 
makes  them  most  loathesome  in  the  eyes  of  the  Hindu 
castes.  The  children  grow  up  like  Topsies.  They  are 
rarely  admitted  to  any  school,  but  sometimes  they  are  al- 
lowed to  stand  on  the  porch  outside  and  listen  through 
the  window. 

Outcastes  are  permitted  only  a limited  choice  of  occu- 
pations. They  may  be  scavengers,  street  sweepers,  cane 
chairmakers,  oil-pressers,  liquor  sellers,  leather  workers 
and  shoemakers.  The  sacredness  of  the  cow  reaches  out 
to  curse  any  one  who  traffics  with  her  dead  body.  So 
leather  workers  are  a particularly  low  type  of  outcaste, 
or  were,  until  increasing  intercourse  with  European  and 
English  civilization  made  the  wearing  of  shoes  quite 
common.  To-day  the  shoe  is  only  doctrinally  expurga- 
torius.  It  ought  not  to  be  tolerated  — and  yet  it  is ! 

Excluded  from  the  life  of  the  Hindu,  the  outcaste  is 


96 


India’s  silent  revolution 


also  shut  out  of  his  religion.  The  humane  Hindu  con- 
soles himself  with  a comfortable  explanation  for  the  mis- 
ery and  degradation  of  these  fifty-three  millions.  Ac- 
cording to  the  doctrine  of  transmigration,  these  are  the 
souls  of  men  and  women  who  were  especially  wicked  in 
former  incarnations  and  who  are  now  expiating  their  sins. 
Hence,  it  is  not  right  to  pity  them  or  attempt  to  help 
them.  Each  one  must  work  out  his  own  Karma,  and 
only  by  draining  his  cup  to  the  dregs  can  each  outcaste 
earn  his  way  back  to  a next  life  within  the  castes. 

The  Pariah’s  religion  is -Animism,  or  spirit  worship, 
rather  than  Hinduism.  He  believes  in  charms,  signs, 
and  voodoos.  Evil  spirits  possess  men  and  women,  caus- 
ing illness  and  disaster  to  the  entire  community.  Cholera, 
plagues,  and  famines  are  caused  by  offended  gods  and 
goddesses,  who  must  be  appeased  by  ritual  and  sacrifice. 
Ceremonies  vary  in  each  community,  and  have  in  common 
only  the  fact  that  they  are  all  mainly  an  effort  to  pacify 
evil  spirits  and  demons. 

Outcastes  are  of  no  one  race.  A majority  are  prob- 
ably descended  from  negrito  aborigines  who  were  living 
in  India  when  the  earliest  immigrants  came  down  from 
the  North.  The  whole  outcaste  system  may  easily  have 
risen  from  the  instinct  of  Aryan  and  Dravidian  invaders 
to  forbid  intermarriage  with  darker  skinned  aborigines. 

Isolated  outcaste  communities  have,  in  the  course  of 
centuries,  broken  through  into  the  lowest  of  the  four 
Hindu  castes,  the  Sudras.  On  the  western  coast  of 
South  India  there  are  three  outcaste  groups  of  related 
stock,  numbering  nearly  two  millions,  who  stand  out  con- 
spicuously above  the  average.  Sometime  in  the  past  they 
gained  the  right  to  study  and  practice  the  old  Hindu  medi- 


TOUCHING  THE  UNTOUCHABLES  97 

cine  and  astrology,  and  in  some  families  a knowledge  of 
Sanskrit  has  been  handed  down.1 

As  a rule,  however,  they  are  held  down  strictly,  and 
the  castes  resent  any  attempt  to  educate  or  have  dealings 
with  the  Pariah  groups  who  serve  conveniently  as  serfs, 
to  do  the  dirty  and  disgusting  work  of  the  community. 

Missionaries  were  the  first  to  undertake  organized 
work  among  these  “ depressed  classes.”  At  first  upper- 
class  Hindus  only  smiled,  and  said  that  they  might  as 
well  undertake  to  convert  the  monkeys  chattering  in  the 
trees.  Patiently  the  missionaries  worked  along  until 
about  1880,  when  their  teaching  began  to  meet  such  sen- 
sational success  that  it  roused  general  interest  and  alarm 
among  Hindus. 

The  first  recorded  Christian  work  among  the  outcastes 
was  that  of  a missionary  named  Schwartz,  who,  in  the 
early  1800’s,  baptized  some  18,000  outcastes  in  southern 
India.  About  1880,  outcastes  began  to  accept  Christi- 
anity by  villages,  a mass  movement  they  called  it,  and 
progressive  Hindu  organizations  realized  that  if  they  did 
not  undertake  mission  work  of  their  own,  the  entire 
fifty-three  million  outcastes  might  be  lost  to  the  Hindu 
community.  As  Lajpat  Rai  puts  it,  “ The  possibility  of 
losing  the  Untouchables  has  shaken  the  intelligent  section 
of  the  Hindu  community  to  its  very  depths,  and  were  it 
not  for  the  long-established  prejudices  and  deep-rooted 
habits,  Untouchableness  would  soon  be  a thing  of  the 
past.  . . . The  Christian  missionary  is  gathering  the 
harvest,  and  no  blame  can  attach  to  him  for  doing  so. 
He  is  in  this  country  with  the  message  of  his  God,  and 
if  the  Hindus  forsake  their  own  people,  he,  in  any  case, 

1 Farquhar,  “Modern  Religious  Movements  in  India,”  p.  311. 


98 


India’s  silent  revolution 


will  not  fail  them.  The  depressed  classes,  as  I have  said, 
have  no  desire  to  leave  Hinduism  if  the  latter  make  it 
possible  for  them  to  progress  on  humane  lines:  but  if  in 
its  stupidity  it  hesitates  and  hesitates,  they  are  not  willing 
to  follow  in  its  train  any  longer.”  1 

In  the  last  few  years  the  work  of  the  missionaries  in 
India  has  been  on  a colossal  scale.  Individual  converts 
were  persecuted  so  bitterly  that,  on  their  own  suggestion, 
the  work  is  now  organized  in  mass  movements.  No  one 
person  is  received  into  the  church  until  his  entire  group 
is  ready  for  baptism. 

The  temperament  and  mental  attitude  of  outcastes  is 
such  that  it  is  more  satisfactory  to  handle  them  en  masse. 
The  contempt  and  degradation  into  which  they  are  born 
and  which  they  accept  from  earliest  consciousness  robs 
them  of  natural  initiative  and  courage.  They  are  pe- 
culiarly victims  of  mob  psychology. 

The  actual  working  out  of  what  is  called  “ the  mass 
movement  ” is  rather  unique.  As  the  unit  of  Indian  life 
is  the  village,  so  the  unit  of  village  life  is  the  caste. 
Every  village  is  a collection  of  wards  or  castes,  and  each 
caste  has  its  mayor  or  headman,  who  acts  as  political, 
religious,  and  social  dictator.  Recently,  attracted  by  the 
rapid  spread  of  Christianity,  mayors  of  lower  castes  and 
outcaste  groups  have  been  coming  to  the  mission  stations 
and  inquiring  about  having  their  constituencies  baptized. 
The  mission  stations  organized  training  schools  for  vil- 
lage mayors,  lasting  two  or  three  weeks.  Groups  of 
twenty-five  to  two  hundred  mayors  attend  and  learn  the 
elemental  facts  and  principles  of  Christianity.  A popu- 
lar method  is  learning  hymns.  The  Indian  Christian 


x“The  Arya  Samaj.” 


TOUCHING  THE  UNTOUCHABLES 


99 


hymn  is  no  dilettante  matter.  It  is  frequently  two  hours 
long,  and  sometimes  covers  Christ’s  birth,  death,  and 
resurrection,  winding  up  with  a long  series  of  observa- 
tions on  what  sort  of  life  a Christian  should  lead. 

After  training  school  is  over,  the  mayors  go  back  to 
their  villages  and  teach  their  people  these  hymns.  Later 
on,  they  report  that  their  group  is  ready  for  baptism.  I 
was  present  at  a conference  last  winter,  where  91,000 
individuals,  reported  as  requesting  baptism,  had  to  be  re- 
fused because  there  were  no  teachers  to  train  the  villages 
after  baptism.  Protestant  missionaries  have  consistently 
refused  to  go  through  India  baptizing  indiscriminately, 
and  then  leaving  the  people  to  their  own  devices.  The 
work  is  definitely  limited  by  the  supply  of  teachers  avail- 
able to  live  in  each  village  and  follow  up  baptism  with 
practical  instruction  and  advice.  Evangelization  and 
education  is  the  principle.  Statistics  demonstrate  the  re- 
sult. In  spite  of  the  fact  that  80  per  cent,  of  Christian 
converts  are  from  the  illiterate,  outcaste  group,  the  census 
of  1911  reports  that  the  Indian  Christian  community  has 
the  highest  average  for  literacy  in  all  India,  higher  even 
than  among  Brahmans ! The  Christian  community  shows 
22  per  cent,  literacy,  as  compared  with  an  average  of  6 
per  cent,  for  all  India.  The  Year  Book  comments: 

“ Christians  have  in  proportion  to  their  numbers  three 
times  as  many  literate  persons  as  Hindus,  and  more  than 
four  times  as  many  as  Mohammedans.  The  influence  of 
Christianity  is  strikingly  illustrated  in  the  province  of 
Bihar  and  Orissa  where  the  proportion  is  seventy-six  per 
mille  as  compared  with  only  five  per  mille  among  their 
animistic  congeners.  It  has  to  be  remembered,  moreover, 
that  many  of  the  Indian  Christians  had  already  passed 
the  school-going  age  at  the  time  of  their  conversion ; the 


IOO 


India’s  silent  revolution 


proportion  who  are  able  to  read  and  write  must  be  far 
higher  amongst  those  who  were  brought  up  as  Chris- 
tians.” 

The  response  to  the  mass  movement  has  been  over- 
whelming. A Methodist  bishop,  Frank  W.  Warne  of 
North  India,  estimates  that  if  he  had  the  workers  in  his 
field  he  could  bring  two  million  people  into  the  church 
in  six  years.  Baptisms  in  American  Methodist  missions 
have  reached  the  figure  of  1,000  a week,  and  the  average 
for  the  united  Protestant  constituency  is  about  15,000  a 
month.  The  Bishop  of  Madras  (Church  of  England) 
says  that  with  a sufficient  force,  ten  million  outcastes 
could  be  received  into  the  Christian  church  in  one  gener- 
ation. Professor  Samuel  Higginbottom  laments  the  fact 
that  they  are  not  equipped  to  meet  the  demand.  “ There 
are  districts  in  North  India  where  there  are  40,000  people 
on  a waiting  list  of  the  missions,  and  there  are  individual 
churches  with  from  1,500  to  2,000  people  waiting  to  be 
admitted.  We  are  compelled  to  say  to  these  people, 
‘ Wait  a bit ; do  not  come  so  fast ; we  cannot  take  care 
of  you.’  ” 

Patriotic  Hindus,  who  resent  the  intrusion  of  Christi- 
anity, are  inclined  to  disparage  the  conversion  of  out- 
castes on  the  ground  that  they  are  not  an  important  ele- 
ment in  the  community.  That  the  fear  does  agitate  the 
Hindu  community,  however,  is  evidenced  by  a letter  writ- 
ten in  June,  1918,  by  the  secretary  of  the  All-India-Hindu- 
Sabha  — an  orthodox  Hindu  organization.  He  invites 
opinions  on  removing  the  untouchableness  of  certain 
classes  who  do  not  follow  or  have  left  the  scavenging 
occupation,  at  the  same  time  not  altering  the  Roti  and 
Beti  (prohibition  of  interdining  and  intermarriage)  with 
the  castes.  The  letter,  which  was  written  on  a resolution 


TOUCHING  THE  UNTOUCHABLES  IOI 

passed  by  the  Sabha,  says,  “ The  importance  of  this  ques- 
tion is  evident  from  the  fact  that  according  to  the  report 
of  the  Christian  missionaries  more  than  10,000  Hindus 
belonging  to  these  classes  are  leaving  the  fold  of  Hindu 
society,  and  embracing  Christianity  every  month,  whereby 
they  all  become  Touchable  in  the  eyes  of  Hindus.”  1 

It  is  a curious  fact  that  after  outcastes  have  been  bap- 
tized, Hindus  themselves  cease  to  regard  them  as  Un- 
touchable, and  they  are  received  on  the  same  footing  as 
those  who  became  Christians  from  within  the  castes. 

It  has  been  inspiring  to  discover  the  ability  and  even 
genius  latent  among  outcaste  children.  There  was  the 
case  of  a man  I am  proud  to  call  my  friend.  I remember 
seeing  his  mother,  a wrinkled  old  woman,  gathering  up 
the  refuse  from  the  streets  of  her  village,  to  take  it  home 
and  sift  out  the  whole  seeds  of  grain  and  use  them  for 
food.  Her  boy  was  a bright  youngster,  and  the  man  in 
charge  of  the  mission  school  put  him  in  one  of  his  classes. 
He  did  so  well  that,  when  he  finished  at  the  school,  money 
was  found  to  send  him  on  to  a higher  school,  until  finally 
that  little  outcaste  boy  took  a doctor’s  degree  on  the  Uni- 
versity of  Edinburgh  standard.  To-day  he  is  a prac- 
ticing physician  in  a leading  Indian  city,  a respected  citi- 
zen and  a member  of  the  Board  of  Health  of  the  Prov- 
ince. 

The  attitude  of  the  Gaekwar  of  Baroda  has  been  nota- 
bly radical  in  regard  to  outcastes.  For  years  he  has 
stood  out  conspicuously  for  their  rights.  Not  only  has 
he  built  separate  schoolhouses  for  them,  but  in  communi- 
ties where  there  were  not  enough  to  warrant  a separate 
building  he  insisted  that  they  be  admitted  to  the  regular 


Indian  Social  Reformer,  June  9,  1918. 


102 


India’s  silent  revolution 


school,  where  they  sit  in  a corner  of  the  room  reserved 
for  them.  He  also  issued  strict  orders  that  any  teacher 
who  refused  to  teach  them  or  insulted  them  should  be 
immediately  dismissed.  He  organized  special  classes 
where  outcaste  men  and  women  are  trained  as  teachers 
for  outcaste  schools.  Not  only  does  the  Gaekwar  safe- 
guard their  legal  rights,  but  he  receives  them  personally, 
giving  receptions  at  his  palace,  to  which  outcaste  students 
are  invited. 

The  ruler  of  another  native  state,  the  Dewan  of  Tra- 
vancore,  himself  a Brahman,  has  attacked  caste  aggres- 
sively as  a chief  obstacle  to  educational  and  social  prog- 
ress. The  depressed  classes  of  Travancore  have  their 
own  special  representatives  in  the  legislature,  and  many 
of  the  schools  have  been  thrown  open  “ to  all  classes  of 
H.  H.  the  Maharajah’s  subjects.” 

The  Brahmo  Samaj  was  first  of  the  Hindu  organiza- 
tions to  undertake  special  work  for  the  Depressed  Classes. 
In  1870  it  began  a propaganda  which  culminated  in  the 
organization  of  the  Depressed  Classes  Mission  in  1906. 
Many  workers  in  this  mission  are  Brahmans  and  mem- 
bers of  the  upper  castes.  La j pat  Rai,  a leader  of  the  Arya 
Samaj,  was  conspicuous  in  this  work  until  his  exile  from 
India.  The  other  Samajes  also  cooperate.  The  parent 
society  of  the  Depressed  Classes  Mission  in  Bombay  main- 
tains several  schools,  a boarding  house,  a bookbindery, 
a shoe  factory,  and  a mission.  They  follow  the  usual 
lines  of  missionary  and  settlement  work,  visiting  Pariahs 
in  their  homes,  sending  the  children  to  school,  securing 
medical  attendance  and  nursing,  teaching  sanitation  and 
cleanliness  in  the  home,  and  holding  classes  for  adult 
women  in  reading,  writing,  and  sewing. 

The  Depressed  Classes  Mission  owes  not  only  its  name 


TOUCHING  THE  UNTOUCHABLES  IO3 

to  the  missionaries,  but  its  inspiration  as  well,  as  was 
quite  frankly  admitted  in  circular  letters  sent  out  when 
the  mission  was  opened. 

“If  the  outcastes  are  not  all  to  be  gathered  into  the 
Christian  fold,”  the  appeal  read,  “ it  is  high  time  that 
Hindus  should  bestir  themselves  and  save  them.”  And, 
“If  foreigners  have  done  so  much  for  our  degraded  fel- 
low-countrymen, we  shall  be  disgraced  before  all  the 
world  if  we  continue  to  do  nothing.” 

Work  of  the  Arya  Samaj  among  the  outcastes  has  been 
sensationally  unorthodox.  By  formal  ritual  they  under- 
take to  make  the  untouchables  touchable,  “ educating  them 
to  higher  ideals,  with  a view  to  eventually  raising  them 
to  social  equality  with  other  Hindus.” 

Candidates  for  promotion  from  untouchableness  live 
on  milk  alone  for  three  days.  At  a public  meeting,  the 
candidates  make  their  profession  of  faith  to  the  ten  prin- 
ciples of  the  Arya  Samaj ; ghee,  or  clarified  butter,  is 
burned  in  the  fire,  and  Vedas  are  recited.  As  a token 
of  the  transformation,  high-caste  members  of  the  Arya 
Samaj  accept  sweetmeats  from  the  hands  of  the  candi- 
dates. In  some  cases,  Brahman  members  of  the  Samaj 
accompany  new  members  to  their  homes  where  they  eat 
food  prepared  by  the  initiate’s  wives. 

Sarala  Devi  Chauhurani,  wife  of  a Hindu  Pandit,  gives 
a vivid  description  of  accompanying  her  husband  while 
he  performed  these  ceremonial  purifications.  Although 
she  and  her  husband,  a member  of  the  Arya  Samaj,  must 
obviously  be  radicals  to  engage  in  this  work,  she  betrays 
an  instinctive  contempt  for  that  “ soulless  animal,”  the 
outcaste,  which  suggests  that  she  is  scarcely  aware  of  her 
own  scorn. 

She  describes  a vast  mass  of  humanity,  comprising 


104  India’s  silent  revolution 

several  thousand  men,  women  and  children,  waiting  pa- 
tiently for  her  husband  on  the  wooded  banks  of  one  of 
the  five  rivers  of  the  Punjab,  “ unkempt,  unclad  but  for  a 
loin  cloth  and  a short-sleeved  kurta,  a dirty  piece  of  cloth 
wrapped  round  the  head  as  a turban,  not  being  permitted 
by  the  unwritten  laws  of  their  high  caste  neighbors  to  put 
on  dresses  as  good  or  long  or  clean  as  those  of  their  social 
superiors.  They  are  waiting  like  herds  of  dumb  animals 
for  the  loving  hand  that  will  lift  them  to  the  scale  of 
humanity.” 

The  ceremony  was  to  take  place  in  the  district  of  a 
Rajput  landlord  whose  ancestors  had  been  on  friendly 
terms  with  those  of  her  husband  “ for  ages,  counting 
from  the  days  of  the  first  Moghul.”  In  times  of  war, 
the  women  and  children  of  one  family  were  sent  to  the 
other  for  protection  and  shelter. 

“ Instead  of  words  of  welcome,  my  husband  was 
greeted  with  words  of  abuse  and  threat  for  daring  to 
upset  centuries-old  family  relationship  in  this  way  by 
coming  on  his  lands  to  disgrace  him  by  making  his  un- 
touchable tenants  touchable.  His  loud-voiced  words  of 
anger  and  abuse  gathered  an  enormous  crowd  on  the 
spot.  The  ladies  of  the  family  dared  not  take  me  inside 
the  house  but  with  veils  drawn  over  their  faces  flocked 
to  the  roof  and  watched  me  silently  waiting  in  the  tonga. 
My  husband  bore  everything  patiently.  But  I had  come 
to  the  end  of  my  tether.  After  more  than  an  hour's 
waiting  in  the  zamindar’s  compound,  with  my  ears  burn- 
ing with  the  abuses  and  threats  of  exchange  of  swords 
even  with  my  husband,  when  the  younger  members  of 
the  family  pressed  me  to  enter  the  house  and  make  my- 
self comfortable,  I called  my  husband  to  my  side  and 
said,  ‘ Let  us  go  away  from  here;  let  us  go  to  any  poor 


TOUCHING  THE  UNTOUCHABLES  IO5 

villager’s  house.  I will  not  take  food  offered  by  these 
people.’  My  husband  replied:  ‘It  will  be  the  greatest 

blunder  to  leave  at  this  juncture.  Have  patience.  Here 
we  must  stay,  accept  the  hospitality  of  this  very  man 
and  bring  him  around  to  the  cause.  If  we  leave  this 
minute  we  estrange  him  and  his  family  from  the  cause 
forever.  To-morrow  he  will  come  to  his  senses  and  will 
apologize  to  you  and  to  me.  The  younger  people  are  all 
with  us.  You  go  inside  the  house.  I will  win  him 
over.’ 

“ So  he  did.  By  evening  the  man  was  all  contrition 
and  did  not  know  how  to  show  his  face.  The  next  morn- 
ing with  the  aid  of  his  men  and  money  the  purification 
of  his  untouchable  tenants  was  performed  triumphantly. 

“ With  the  approach  of  the  Master,  the  shaving  of  the 
men  begins.  The  women  simply  bathe  and  put  on  new 
clothes.  Then  follows  the  initiation  or  the  purification, 
as  it  is  called,  by  fire  and  by  the  Gayatri  Mantra.  The 
Guru  addresses  them  and  the  audience  of  the  higher  castes 
who  are  assembled  to  witness  the  ceremony.  He  exhorts 
the  latter  to  receive  their  brethren  with  open  arms  when 
purified.  The  mantra  of  Omkar  is  given  to  the  former. 
The  forest  resounds  with  the  long-drawn,  many-times- 
repeated  sound  of  Om-Om-Om.  After  taking  the  vow 
of  clean  living  and  clean  thinking,  and  pouring  in  his 
libation  to  the  fire,  the  hour-before-human-shaped-soul- 
less  animal  rises  up  at  the  command  of  the  teacher,  meta- 
morphosed into  a full-fledged  human  being,  with  a dis- 
tinctly perceptible  light  of  the  soul  shining  in  his  features. 
The  high-caste  men  of  the  village  take  candies  offered  by 
his  hands,  lead  him  to  the  village  well,  and  permit  him  to 
draw  water  out  of  it.  The  body,  with  its  newly  possessed 
soul,  quivers  at  the  unexpected  indulgence  and  hesitates 


io6  India’s  silent  revolution 

for  a moment ; but  the  fraternal  encouragement  of  the 
whole  village  community  gives  him  heart,  and  led  by  the 
Guru  he  walks  up  the  steps  of  the  well  and  pulls  the  rope. 
His  centuries-old  disabilities  are  removed  by  this  one  act, 
his  self-respect  is  restored  to  him  and  his  sense  of  hu- 
manity completed.  For  though  a Sudra  still,  he  is  no 
longer  untouchable,  his  touch  pollutes  no  more.”  1 

There  was  intense  excitement  the  first  time  the  Arya 
Samaj  performed  a purification  ceremony  in  1899.  But 
the  Aryas  went  right  on  emancipating  groups  of  out- 
castes,  and  gradually  the  Hindu  community  has  come  to 
accept  them  as  caste  members.  The  Arya  Samaj  not 
only  raises  outcastes  to  be  touchables,  but  in  cases  of 
merit  it  confers  the  sacred  thread  upon  castes  not  entitled 
to  wear  it. 

Lajpat  Rai  made  some  brave  and  forceful  speeches 
in  connection  with  his  work  for  the  depressed  classes. 
Extracts  are  given  in  his  book  on  the  Arya  Samaj. 

“ No  slavery  is  more  harmful  than  that  of  mind,  and 
no  sin  is  greater  than  human  beings  in  perpetual  bondage. 
It  is  bad  enough  to  enslave  people,  but  to  create  and  per- 
petuate circumstances  which  prevent  them  from  breaking 
their  chains  and  becoming  free  is  infamous.  ...  I am  a 
Hindu  and  a firm  believer  in  Karma.  I also  believe  that 
every  man  makes  his  own  Karma,  and  is  thus  the  arbiter 
of  his  own  destiny.  I therefore  look  at  the  question 
thus:  the  ancestors  of  the  Hindus  (or  perhaps  they  them- 
selves in  their  previous  existence)  in  the  insolence  of 
wealth  and  power  maltreated  people  whom  God  had 
placed  under  them  to  protect  and  bless.  The  degrada- 
tion of  the  latter  reacted  upon  them  and  reduced  them 


1 Indian  Review,  May,  1918. 


TOUCHING  THE  UNTOUCHABLES  IO7 

to  the  subordinate  position  which  has  been  their  lot  for 
so  many  centuries.  . . . This  double  degradation  has  re- 
sulted in  the  loss  of  the  manly  instincts  of  the  race.  No 
amount  of  paper  resolutions  and  no  amount  of  talking  on 
platforms  will  make  us  men  unless  we  adopt  the  first  prin- 
ciples of  manhood,  viz.,  of  making  the  amende  honorable 
to  those  of  our  own  people  whom  we  have  wronged,  and 
whom  we  continue  to  wrong  under  an  entirely  mistaken 
idea  of  our  dignity  and  social  position.  Living  in  the 
midst  of  large  classes  of  people  not  conscious  of  their 
manhood,  we  cannot  hope  to  progress  toward  a better 
type.  We  therefore  have  to  realize  that  the  best  and 
highest  sacrifices  we  may  put  forth  for  our  national  ad- 
vancement cannot  come  to  much  so  long  as  the  depressed 
classes  remain  what  they  are.  It  is  not  a question  of 
charity  or  good  will  but  one  of  National  self-preserva- 
tion.” 

Lajpat  Rai  gives  figures  showing  the  extent  of  the 
work  carried  on.  In  three  years,  the  Arya  Samaj  ad- 
mitted an  entire  caste  of  10,000  souls  in  the  territories 
of  the  Maharajah  of  Jammu  and  Kashmere.  In  another 
district,  it  raised  a caste  of  36,000  members.  In  numer- 
ous districts  the  work  runs  into  the  thousands. 

It  might  seem  that  it  would  only  be  necessary  to  offer 
this  opportunity  for  social  enfranchisement  to  have  all 
the  outcastes  of  India  come  running.  But  a social  sys- 
tem that  has  successfully  controlled  the  lives  of  nearly 
one-sixth  of  the  human  race  for  twenty-five  centuries 
may  not  be  knocked  over  in  a day.  Outcastes  have  cow- 
ered for  so  many  generations  in  fear  and  reverence  of  the 
upper  castes,  they  are  so  convinced  of  their  own  degrada- 
tion, that  it  is  not  easy  to  reach  them  with  a different 
message.  They  are  also  subject  to  persecution,  which 


108  India’s  silent  revolution 

makes  it  difficult  and  dangerous  for  them  to  listen  to  out- 
siders. 

Pariahs  have  been  stoned  and  their  clothes  torn  off 
because  they  ventured  to  appear  in  better  clothes  than 
they  were  accustomed  to  wear.  A pariah  who  ventured 
to  carry  an  umbrella  — an  almost  necessary  protection 
against  the  burning  tropical  sun  — was  set  upon  by  caste 
members,  his  umbrella  broken  to  bits,  his  clothing  torn, 
and  he  was  thoroughly  beaten  — to  teach  him  his  place. 
In  some  districts  outcastes  are  not  allowed  to  wear  clothes 
at  all,  but  only  leaves,  woven  together  with  twigs.  In 
others,  they  are  required  to  make  a moaning  noise  as 
they  walk  along  the  road,  to  give  warning  of  their  ap- 
proach so  that  no  upper  casteman  may  be  polluted.1  Out- 
castes seen  talking  to  missionaries,  or  to  members  of  the 
Samajes,  are  frequently  beaten  as  a warning  not  to  talk 
to  them  again. 

So  arrogantly  have  the  castes  held  the  whip  hand  that 
the  outcastes  have  been  very  slow  in  developing  a spirit 
of  revolt,  but  insurrection  is  gradually  ripening.  It  is 
probable  that  the  mission  work  of  Christians  and  of 
Samajes  has  been  even  more  valuable  in  creating  a degree 
of  tolerance  among  Hindus,  and  in  stirring  the  outcastes 
themselves  to  self-consciousness  and  revolt,  than  in  the 
actual  number  of  individual  Pariahs  who  have  been 
reached  and  helped. 

It  was  in  1910  that  some  Pariahs  opened  a candy  booth 
at  a Punjab  fair,  and  with  delightful  irony,  wrote  on  the 
sign  overhead,  “ Let  it  be  known  to  the  High-born  that 
Hindus  and  Mussulmen  are  prohibited  to  buy  sweets  here. 
Chuhras  and  all  others  are  welcome.”  2 

1 St.  Nihal  Singh,  Contemporary  Review,  March,  1913. 

2 Quoted  by  Farquhar  from  the  Indian  Social  Reformer. 


TOUCHING  THE  UNTOUCHABLES  IO9 

The  first  mass  meeting  of  untouchables  seemed  incred- 
ibly presumptuous,  but  they  are  already  a commonplace. 
At  a meeting  in  the  winter  of  1917,  two  groups  of  out- 
castes  in  southern  India  determined  to  form  a procession 
along  certain  roads  which  they  had  not  been  allowed  to 
use.  Supported  by  the  Home  Rule  League  of  Palghat 
(a  progressive  caste  organization)  and  the  police,  and 
bearing  a portrait  of  the  King-Emperor  and  the  Union 
Jack,  they  paraded  down  the  forbidden  way.  They  met 
no  active  opposition,  but  non-Brahman  residents  inhabit- 
ing the  Bazar  near  by  sent  a long  memorial  to  the  Gov- 
ernor of  Madras  protesting  against  having  “ suffered  the 
greatest  indignity  and  pain.”  The  memorial  admits  that 
the  roads  are  maintained  out  of  public  funds,  into  which, 
these  depressed  classes  must  pay  their  taxes,  but  they 
protest  against  breaking  the  old  precedent  of  excluding 
outcastes  from  this  road.  The  Governor  had  made  no 
reply  some  months  later.1 

A mass  meeting  of  5,000  untouchables  was  called  in 
Bombay  at  the  time  of  Mr.  Montagu’s  visit.  Sir  Nara- 
yan  Chandavarkar,  a high  caste  Hindu,  presided.  They 
drew  up  a memorial  for  the  Secretary  of  State,  saying 
that  they  were  “ afraid  that  if  home  rule  or  self-govern- 
ment were  granted  to  India  at  the  present  time,  the  gov- 
ernment would  pass  into  the  hands  of  a close  oligarchy, 
unfit  either  by  tradition  or  training  for  wielding  political 
power,  and  thus  the  interests  of  the  masses  would  suffer.” 

The  meeting  passed  a resolution  asking  for  separate 
representation  in  the  Provincial  and  Imperial  Councils, 
which  was  also  forwarded  to  Mr.  Montagu.  Other  reso- 
lutions demanded  the  immediate  introduction  of  free  and 

1 Quoted  from  the  Commonweal  of  Madras  by  the  I.  S.  R. 


no 


India’s  silent  revolution 


compulsory  primary  education,  and  petitioned  the  Na- 
tional Congress  for  removal  of  disabilities  regarding  the 
use  of  schools,  medical  dispensaries,  public  wells,  offices, 
roads  and  other  public  places.  There  was  a special  reso- 
lution of  congratulation  to  Dr.  Ambedjar,  an  outcaste 
sent  to  America  to  be  educated  by  the  Gaekwar,  who 
had  just  returned  to  India  after  taking  his  master’s  and 
doctor’s  degree  at  Columbia  University.  A message  of 
thanks  was  sent  to  His  Highness  the  Gaekwar.1 

The  depressed  classes  are  now  holding  Untouchability 
Conferences  at  frequent  intervals,  which  are  attended  by 
all  classes  from  the  Gaekwar  of  Baroda  down.  The 
Indian  Social  Reformer  commented  on  the  swing  and 
enthusiasm  of  a conference  in  the  spring  of  1918,  as 
being  due  to  their  having  cut  clear  through  to  the  heart 
of  the  problem,  especially  as  compared  with  the  waning 
success  of  the  Aryan  Brotherhood  dinners.  These  din- 
ners, though  they  started  out  to  be  very  radical,  com- 
promised on  the  question  of  outcastes  and  now  invite 
only  guests  from  within  the  four  castes. 

A conference  of  2,000  of  the  most  advanced  and  pros- 
perous members  of  the  outcaste  community,  in  Bombay  in 
the  spring  of  1918,  passed  resolutions  that  they  would 
not  permit  their  girls  to  marry  before  they  had  reached 
puberty,  nor  the  boys  until  they  were  able  to  support 
their  wives  and  themselves ; that  they  would  not  give  nor 
accept  dowries,  and  limiting  their  outlay  on  marriages  in 
proportion  to  their  means.  They  pledged  themselves  not 
to  use  liquor,  demanded  government  aid  for  universal 
primary  education,  endorsed  the  extension  of  cooperative 
saving  societies,  and  vowed  that  they  would  live  on  terms 

1 Times  of  India,  November  15,  1917. 


TOUCHING  THE  UNTOUCHABLES 


I I I 


of  friendship  with  each  other,  ignoring  all  caste  differ- 
ences. 

This  last  may  sound  ironical,  but  it  was  in  the  soberest 
good  faith,  for  all  these  infinitely  degraded  people  have 
their  own  sets  and  classes  in  miniature,  with  just  as  strict 
rules  against  intermarriage,  interdining  and  other  rela- 
tionships as  those  which  fence  off  the  Brahman  from  the 
rest  of  the  world.  This  has  been  one  of  the  chief  diffi- 
culties in  working  with  them,  for  not  one  has  fallen  too 
low  to  have  taboos  and  inhibitions  about  permitting  his 
children  to  go  to  school  with  children  of  some  scavenger 
whom  he  considers  even  lower  than  himself.  The  Abbe 
Dubois  describes  a festival  which  nearly  broke  up  in  a 
riot  because  the  Pariahs  resented  a shoemaker's  wearing 
certain  red  flowers  in  his  turban,  flowers  which  his 
“ caste  ” were  not  entitled  to  wear. 

The  full  significance  of  the  list  of  resolutions  quoted 
above  only  appears  when  one  remembers  just  who  con- 
stituted that  audience.  It  is  impossible  for  the  western 
mind  to  exaggerate  or  even  do  justice  to  the  degree  of 
filth,  poverty,  and  hunger,  from  which  those  people  are 
climbing.  They  make  up  the  bulk  of  the  seventy  mil- 
lions to  whom  Sir  William  Digby  referred  when  he  esti- 
mated that  there  were  at  least  seventy  million  “ continu- 
ally hungry  people  in  British  India  at  the  beginning  of 
the  twentieth  century.” 

But  so  indomitably  hopeful  and  courageous  is  this 
animal  called  man,  that  a few  years  of  missionary  work, 
a smattering  of  education,  a slight  loosening  of  the  chains 
which  bound  him,  and  he  is  debonairly  passing  resolutions 
limiting  his  budget,  and  vowing  to  live  on  terms  of 
friendship  with  his  neighbors. 

Gradually  these  stirrings  among  the  outcastes  have 


1 12 


INDIA  S SILENT  REVOLUTION 


reached  the  conventional  Hindu  community.  The  Maha- 
rajah of  Cassimbazar,  presiding  over  a conference  of  a 
strong  orthodox  organization,  the  All-India  Hindu 
Sabha,  last  winter,  challenged  conditions  vigorously. 
He  said : 

“ Gentlemen,  do  not  let  me  be  misunderstood.  I do 
not  appear  before  you  to-day  to  condemn  the  system  of 
caste.  I personally  believe  in  caste,  and  I do  not  think 
there  is  any  nation  in  the  world  which  has  been  able  to 
do  without  it  in  some  form  or  other.  What  I am  anxious 
to  insist  is  that  while  caste  was  intended  in  ancient  India 
as  a social  insurance,  it  has  degenerated  in  our  day  into 
a school  of  endless  bitterness,  hatred  and  hostility.” 

Similarly,  Sir  Subrahmanya  Iyer,  presiding  at  a meet- 
ing to  commemorate  a Tamil  saint  and  poet  of  reputed 
Pariah  parentage,  attacked  the  “ folly  and  injustice  of 
the  existing  custom.”  He  reminded  his  audience  that 
the  origin  of  caste  lay  in  a natural  desire  of  the  early 
Aryan  settlers  not  to  mix  and  intermarry  with  such  of 
the  aboriginal  inhabitants  as  were  unclean,  on  sanitary 
and  moral  grounds.  In  time,  this  reason  has  been  quite 
forgotten,  and  a false  and  evil  pride  of  family  and  sta- 
tion has  developed  caste  into  an  entirely  different  thing. 
He  compared  the  transition  to  the  story  of  the  ancient 
guru  who  had  a cat  which  used  to  bother  him  while  he 
was  performing  his  devotions.  So  he  tied  it  up  to  keep 
it  out  of  his  way,  and  his  neighbors,  slavishly  imitating, 
decided  that  there  must  be  some  special  virtue  about  keep- 
ing a cat  tied  up  while  saying  prayers,  because  this  holy 
guru  did  it,  and  soon  all  the  villagers  had  obtained  cats 
which  they  solemnly  tied  up  during  their  devotions! 

On  an  afternoon  in  March,  1918,  a thousand  sweeper 
women  gathered  in  a hall  in  Bombay  to  witness  the  dis- 


He  isn’t  going  to  a masquerade  ball  in  his  great-grandfather’s 
dress  coat;  he  is  just  on  his  way  to  school  in  a costume  quite 
common  among  Indian  boys 

Children  with  the  look  of  to-morrow  on  their  faces 


TOUCHING  THE  UNTOUCHABLES  II3 

tribution  of  prizes  to  their  schoolgirl  daughters.  These 
little  outcaste  girls,  who  a few  years  ago  would  not  have 
been  admitted  to  any  schoolroom,  were  the  star  perform- 
ers. They  held  a dramatic  conversation  on  the  benefits 
of  school  instruction,  sang  patriotic  songs,  and  received 
dresses  and  ribbons  as  prizes.  If  the  ordinary  American 
mother’s  heart  swells  with  pride  as  she  watches  the  aston- 
ishing beauty  and  cleverness  of  her  little  girl-graduate  at 
commencement,  what  must  have  been  the  mingled  sense 
of  unreality  and  ecstasy  in  the  hearts  of  these  outcaste 
mothers ! Memories  of  their  own  despised  and  hungry 
childhood  must  for  once  have  found  compensation  in  the 
glory  of  that  afternoon. 

A country’s  status  is  determined  not  by  the  culture  of 
the  few  at  the  top  but  by  the  average  of  the  entire  popu- 
lation. The  greatest  task  which  confronts  India  to-day 
is  to  raise  her  average.  The  agitation  for  home  rule 
has  received  wide  publicity,  but  after  all  India  can  only 
campaign  for  an  extension  of  representative  government, 
and  must  then  wait  until  the  British  Government  chooses 
to  act. 

The  elevation  of  her  depressed  classes  is  something 
that  India  herself  can  do,  and  it  is  something  she  must 
do  if  she  is  to  make  any  progress  toward  the  goal  that 
her  Nationalists  in  company  with  the  rest  of  the  world 
are  talking  so  much  about  to-day  — Democracy. 

How  can  there  be  democracy  in  India  with  fifty-three 
million  members  of  the  community  unable  to  read  and 
write,  unable  to  pass  the  most  meager  literacy  test,  un- 
fitted to  take  any  intelligent  part  in  representative  govern- 
ment? The  outcastes  form  a group  half  the  size  of  the 
entire  population  of  the  United  States.  They  are  di- 
vided from  the  rest  of  India  by  mutual  hatred,  and  they 


1 14  India’s  silent  revolution 

are  segregated  by  ignorance,  poverty,  disease,  and  arro- 
gant discrimination. 

India’s  task  of  assimilating  this  great  mass  into  the  nor- 
mal current  of  her  life  is  not  unlike  our  Americanization 
problem  in  this  country.  War  has  brought  us  a new  re- 
alization of  the  importance  of  this  duty,  and  we  are 
attacking  it  more  definitely  than  ever  before.  We  are  or- 
ganizing night  schools,  part-time  schools,  clubs,  commun- 
ity pageants,  turning  our  public  schools  into  social  com- 
munity centers.  We  are  spared  that  most  difficult  first 
step  — we  do  not  have  to  break  down  any  codes  of  social 
discrimination.  Our  most  aristocratic  senators  and  news- 
papers are  not  ashamed  to  refer  to  the  rail-splitter  who  be- 
came President,  and  equality  of  opportunity  is  our  proud- 
est tradition. 

India  faces  this  problem,  not  only  as  an  abstract  duty, 
but  also  as  a practical  exigency.  The  depressed  classes 
are  not  going  to  remain  a passive,  inert  mass  forever. 
Already  there  are  rumblings.  The  high-caste  Hindu 
hears  them,  as  some  of  the  quotations  already  given 
testify.  Traveling  through  India  last  winter  I was  im- 
pressed with  a sense  of  subtle,  inscrutable  difference.  I 
believe  that  it  is  not  unlike  the  slow,  vague  stirrings  and 
ripples  which  must  have  preceded  the  French  Revolution 
and  the  Russian  upheaval.  A silent  revolution  is  going 
on  in  India  to-day.  It  is  social  even  more  than  political. 
It  is  a revolt  against  the  mediaeval  arrogance  and  brutality 
of  Brahmanism  and  the  caste  system.  There  are  evi- 
dences that  it  is  not  entirely  confined  to  the  outcastes,  but 
that  it  is  spreading  to  some  of  the  lower  groups  within 
the  castes. 

Arthur  Henderson,  sketching  the  origin  of  the  British 
Labor  party,  writes,  “ A new  social  order  is  taking 


TOUCHING  THE  UNTOUCHABLES  115 

shape  even  in  the  midst  of  the  stress  and  peril  of  the  time. 
This  revolution  is  fundamental,  for  it  touches  the  springs 
of  action  in  the  great  mass  of  the  common  people.”  1 He 
is  speaking  of  England,  but  his  words  apply  exactly  to 
India,  and  the  same  world  stir  which  has  precipitated  the 
situation  in  England  is  responsible  for  the  change  at  work 
in  India  as  well.  India’s  silent  revolution  is  fundamental, 
for  it  touches  the  springs  of  action  in  the  great  mass  of 
the  common  people. 

Christian  missionaries,  concentrating  on  outcaste  com- 
munities, will  ultimately  reach  an  enormous  majority  of 
the  fifty-three  millions.  Not  only  will  the  outcastes  have 
become  Christians,  but  by  force  of  education  they  will 
constitute  the  most  progressive,  most  capable  element 
in  the  community. 

This  body  of  Indian  outcastes  offers  a provocative  field. 
Given  a western  education,  they  will  combine  the  ingen- 
uity of  the  Indian  mind,  its  agility  in  moving  deftly  in 
and  out  and  around  a subject,  with  the  abrupt  doggedness 
of  the  West.  They  will  gain  that  quality,  the  lack  of 
which  is  India’s  great  natural  deficiency  — initiative. 
They  will  have  become  so  many  million  individuals. 
And  what  is  going  to  become  of  Hinduism  when  it  tries 
to  sit  on  a rather  fragile  lid,  holding  down  some  fifty 
million  ambitious  individuals? 


1 “ The  Aims  of  Labor,”  p.  io. 


VI 


LIFTING  THE  PURDAH 

Brahman  marriage  ceremonies  last  for  several  days. 
The  high-caste  husband  anoints  his  bride  and  himself, 
reciting  verses  and  liturgies.  She  ascends  a millstone, 
descends  from  it,  and  takes  seven  steps  to  the  northeast. 
At  last,  after  tedious  hours  of  ritual,  when  in  the  night 
sky  the  bride  sees  the  polar  star  and  the  seven  Rishis, 
she  breaks  her  long  silence  and  says,  “ May  my  husband 
live,  and  may  I obtain  children.” 

The  sentence  sums  up  her  whole  life;  the  submersion 
of  all  individuality  in  the  lives  of  her  husband  and  chil- 
dren. The  orthodox  Hindu  husband  never  eats  with 
his  wife.  She  eats  from  his  plate  when  he  has  finished. 
She  may  not  utter  his  name,  scarcely  will  she  venture  to 
look  up  into  his  eyes.  One  Indian  wife  told  a woman 
missionary  that  she  had  never  dared  to  look  full  into  her 
husband’s  face  until  after  her  second  child  was  born. 

Oblivious  of  the  changing  position  of  women  in  the 
rest  of  the  world,  India  keeps  her  women  buried  behind 
a mass  of  archaic  tradition.  Higher  caste  women  are 
quite  literally  buried  behind  the  purdah  or  curtain  which 
divides  the  zenana  or  women's  quarters  from  the  rest  of 
the  house. 

In  spite  of  all  the  madrigals  and  rondelays  individual 
man  has  written  to  the  charms  of  the  fair  sex,  men  have 

n6 


LIFTING  THE  PURDAH 


II 7 


an  elemental  and  instinctive  contempt  for  women  which 
the  more  primitive  societies  do  not  attempt  to  conceal 
Female  infanticide,  frank  discrimination  in  social  cus- 
toms, and  naively  intolerant  proverbs  are  some  of  the 
expressions  of  the  Indian’s  contempt. 

“ What  is  the  chief  gate  to  hell?  ” asks  the  Hindu  con- 
undrum, and  artlessly  answers,  “ Woman.”  “ The  par- 
ents look  after  boys,  and  God  looks  after  the  girls,”  has  a 
sinister  ring  after  reading  census  reports  showing  that 
the  proportion  of  females  to  a thousand  males  in  India  is 
954  as  compared  with  1068  in  England  and  1060  in  this 
country.  Perhaps  it  is  due  not  to  actual  infanticide,  but 
to  the  fact  that  the  Indian  father,  counting  up  his  family 
for  the  census  taker,  quite  forgets  to  mention  his  daugh- 
ters ; they  do  not  count.  “ May  you  have  one  hundred 
sons,”  is  the  politest  of  pleasantries  to  a newly  married 
couple,  but  to  wish  them  a hundred  daughters  — no  one 
could  be  so  cruel. 

The  Code  of  Manu,  one  of  the  Hindu  Holy  books, 
dating  back  in  its  present  form  to  at  least  500  b.  c.,  gives 
some  quaintly  interesting  instructions  for  a Brahman  in 
his  choice  of  a wife. 

“ Let  him  not  marry  a girl  with  reddish  hair,  nor  one 
with  a superfluity  of  limbs  (as  for  instance,  one  with  six 
fingers),  nor  one  who  is  sickly,  nor  one  with  either  too 
little  or  too  much  hair,  nor  one  who  talks  too  much,  nor 
one  who  is  red-eyed ; nor  one  with  the  name  of  a bird,  a 
snake,  a slave,  nor  any  frightful  object.  But  let  him 
marry  a woman  without  defective  or  deformed  limbs, 
having  an  agreeable  name,  whose  gait  is  like  that  of  a 
flamingo  or  elephant,  whose  teeth  and  hair  are  moderate 
in  quantity,  and  whose  whole  body  is  soft.” 

The  Abbe  Dubois,  a French  priest  who  analyzed  Hindu 


n8  India’s  silent  revolution 

life  as  he  found  it  in  the  early  i8oo’s  with  a delightful 
mixture  of  gossip  and  fact,  quotes  from  the  Padma 
Purana,  part  of  the  Hindu  Holy  Books,  some  Precepts 
for  Married  Women,  which  express  the  orthodox  Hindu 
ideal  of  womanhood  to-day. 

“ When  her  husband  sings  she  must  be  in  ecstasy.  If 
he  dances,  she  views  him  with  delight.  If  he  speaks  of 
science,  she  is  filled  with  admiration.  . . . Her  husband 
may  be  crooked,? aged,  infirm,  offensive  in  his  manners. 
Let  him  also  be  choleric  and  dissipated,  irregular,  a drunk- 
ard, a gambler,  a debauchee.  Let  him  live  in  the  world 
destitute  of  honor.  Let  him  be  deaf  or  blind.  His 
crimes  and  his  infirmities  may  weigh  him  down,  but  never 
shall  his  wife  regard  him  as  but  her  God.  She  shall 
serve  him  with  all  her  might,  obey  him  in  all  things,  spy 
no  defects  in  his  character,  nor  give  him  any  cause  of 
disquiet.” 

This  attitude  is  curiously  inconsistent  with  the  excep- 
tional reverence  paid  to  women  in  the  Hindu  religion. 
The  wives  of  the  gods  play  an  important  part.  Sita,  the 
devoted  wife  of  Rama,  is  known  and  loved  in  every 
Indian  home.  Kali,  incarnation  of  female  energy,  of  all 
the  power  and  mystery  of  nature  herself,  and  with  all  of 
nature’s  inscrutable  cruelty,  is  one  of  the  most  beloved 
and  potent  members  of  the  Hindu  pantheon.  Through- 
out Bengal  she  is  lovingly  referred  to  as  “ The  Mother,” 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  her  statues  represent  her  in  de- 
structive mood,  wearing  a necklace  of  skulls,  her  four 
hands  grasping  weapons.  India  is  always  referred  to 
as  the  Motherland, — “ Bande  Mataram  Hail  Mother- 
land. 

The  Institutes  of  Manu  themselves  contain  lines  which 
are  most  deferential  to  woman  : 


LIFTING  THE  PURDAH 


1 19 

“Honor  to  the  faithful  woman 
Be  by  loving  husband  paid. 

Where  woman  is  not  honored 
Vain  is  sacrificial  rite. 

Where  women  grieve  and  languish 
Perish  men  of  fated  race.”  1 

Moreover,  India  is  conspicuous  among  civilized  states, 
perhaps  indeed  she  is  the  only  one,  where  “ matriarchy  ” 
still  survives.  Down  on  the  southernmost  tip  of  the 
Indian  continent  at  Cape  Comorin  woman  is  still  the  head 
of  the  family,  and  property  follows  her  line,  not  the 
man’s.  Women  own  property  in  their  own  right,  and 
while  the  mother’s  property  passes  on  to  her  children,  the 
father’s  passes  to  his  mother’s  kin.  In  marriage  the  Nair 
woman  has  the  privilege  of  choosing  her  husband  and 
he  comes  to  her  house  to  live.  Until  recently,  she 
could  dismiss  him  when  she  tired  of  him.  Divorce  is 
now  by  mutual  consent.  Feminists  may  find  support  for 
their  thesis  in  the  fact  that  social  conditions  in  this  unique 
little  state  are  far  ahead  of  the  rest  of  India.  There  is 
no  child  marriage,  and  the  state  has  the  highest  percen- 
tage of  literate  women  in  all  India.  G.  Lowes  Dickinson 
tells  of  visiting  “ a school  of  over  600  girls,  ranging  from 
infancy  to  college  age,  and  certainly  I never  saw  school 
girls  look  happier,  keener,  or  more  alive.  Society  clearly 
has  not  gone  to  pieces  under  the  ‘ monstrous  regimen  of 
women.’  Travancore  claims,  probably  with  justice,  to 
be  the  premier  native  state;  the  most  advanced,  the  most 
prosperous,  the  most  happy.”  2 

1 “ Institutes  of  Manu,”  III,  55-57. 

2 G.  Lowes  Dickinson,  “ Appearances,”  p.  38. 


120 


India’s  silent  revolution 


The  contrast  in  the  religious  attitude  of  Indian  men  and 
women  is  impressive.  Many  priests  and  gurus  have  a 
very  lofty  conception  of  theism.  Individuals  attain  a 
high  degree  of  spiritual  insight  through  years  of  Yoga  — 
renunciation  and  meditation.  The  Indian  women’s  reli- 
gion is  peculiarly  mean  and  groveling.  Passing  from 
the  main  temple  into  the  women’s  section,  I have  been 
struck  with  the  sense  of  difference.  There  is  something 
bestial  and  degrading  about  the  forms  they  use,  the  very 
atmosphere  of  the  place.  Many  of  their  observances  and 
customs  are  so  offensive  to  our  western  ideas  that  it  is 
impossible  to  describe  them.  Hindu  priests  sometimes 
take  western  men  through  the  women’s  section  of  a tem- 
ple as  a personal  favor,  but  they  never  permit  western 
women  to  enter. 

Passing  through  the  outer  courts  of  a temple  one  after- 
noon, I happened  near  a Brahman  squatting  in  a corner 
selling  puffed  rice  and  peanuts.  “ Back,  back,  please 
back,”  he  shouted  at  me  in  English.  He  feared  that  I 
would  defile  his  wares  by  brushing  against  them  as  I 
passed.  I backed  away  to  oblige  the  old  fellow,  and  as  I 
did  so,  a handsome  young  Indian  came  up  to  me,  and 
in  perfect  English  apologized  for  the  priest’s  brusqueness. 
He  was  evidently  high  caste,  tall  and  well  built,  in  a 
long  pongee  robe,  gold-colored  turban,  embroidered  san- 
dals, his  black  hair  sleeked  back  under  his  turban.  To 
complete  the  Orientalism  of  the  picture,  he  exhaled  a del- 
icate fragrance  of  perfume  in  odd  contrast  to  the  virility 
of  his  bearing. 

With  a perfection  of  accent  which  could  only  have 
been  acquired  in  an  English  university  he  said,  “ I hope 
you  will  pardon  the  discourtesy  of  the  priest.  He  means 
no  offense.”  I laughed  it  off,  and  from  that  we  fell  into 


LIFTING  THE  PURDAH 


I 21 


discussion  of  the  Hindu  religion.  He  was  intelligent  and 
open-minded,  and  I finally  told  him  the  thought  that  had 
been  in  my  mind.  I asked  him  how  he  could  tolerate  the 
position  of  women  in  India.  Instantly  his  face  froze. 
Curtly  he  replied,  “ That  is  one  thing  you  Occidentals 
can  never  teach  us  — your  attitude  toward  woman.  She 
belongs  to  the  lower  side  of  life.”  And  at  that,  without 
another  word,  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  away ! 

In  addition  to  belonging  to  an  inherently  despised  sex, 
there  are  other  objections  to  being  a little  girl  in  India. 
By  a curious  working  of  the  law  of  supply  and  demand, 
young  men  are  able  to  command  a good  price  in  the 
Indian  marriage  market  year  after  year.  The  various 
certificates  and  degrees  which  the  schools  and  universi- 
ties grant  are  all  sharply  graded  off  on  a rising  scale  of 
rupees.  Caste,  wealth,  physique,  and  good  looks  are 
other  determining  elements.  A poor  man  with  several 
daughters  is  in  an  impossible  dilemma. 

There  was  a tragic  protest  against  the  marriage  dowry 
custom  in  Calcutta  a few  years  ago.  A Hindu  had  deter- 
mined to  mortgage  his  house  and  put  the  rest  of  his  life 
in  pawn  to  secure  the  800  rupees  in  cash  and  1200  in 
jewelry  which  were  demanded  by  his  prospective  son-in- 
law.  Shortly  before  the  marriage  day  the  little  fourteen 
year  old  bride,  Snehalata,  put  on  her  wedding  finery 
and,  climbing  out  on  the  tile  roof  of  her  house,  poured 
kerosene  over  her  dress,  and  set  herself  on  fire.  She 
wanted  to  free  her  father  of  the  burden  of  her  marriage, 
and  to  record  her  death  before  the  eyes  of  the  community 
as  a protest  against  the  custom.  She  left  a pathetic  little 
note  to  her  father : 

“ After  I am  gone,  father,  I know  you  will  shed  tears 
over  my  ashes.  I shall  be  gone ; but  the  family  will  be 


122 


India’s  silent  revolution 


saved.  . . . May  the  conflagration  I shall  kindle  set  the 
whole  country  on  fire.” 

This  incident  attracted  national  attention  and  several 
other  young  girls  followed  her  example.  Their  deaths 
had  an  appreciable  effect.  At  the  first  session  of  the 
Madras  Student  Convention,  an  anti-dowry  league  was 
organized,  and  a small  group  of  students  joined  it,  pledg- 
ing themselves  not  to  accept  marriage  dots  with  their 
brides.  Occasionally  an  Indian  paper  mentions,  in  the 
account  of  a wedding,  that  there  was  no  “ vankda 
money  ” or  dowry. 

It  is  the  Hindu  custom  to  celebrate  a little  girl’s  reach- 
ing the  age  of  puberty  much  as  a western  lad  celebrates 
his  twenty-first  birthday.  Under  the  old  Hindu  law  a 
parent  who  has  not  secured  a husband  for  his  daughter 
before  she  attains  puberty  commits  a serious  sin.  This 
urgency  has  led  to  the  custom  of  infant  betrothals,  and 
even  to  the  betrothal  of  the  unborn,  parents  promising 
each  other  their  next  daughter  or  son  as  the  case  may 
be. 

The  dynamiting  effect  of  mixing  a little  western  edu- 
cation with  some  of  these  archaic  customs  is  illustrated 
in  a story  told  by  Kenneth  S.  MacDonald.  Rukhmabi 
was  a Hindu  girl,  educated  in  the  Free  Church  Mission 
School,  and  afterward  as  a zenana  pupil.  She  was  clever 
and  accomplished,  and  the  man,  Dadaji  by  name,  to  whom 
she  had  been  married  in  infancy,  being  repulsive  and  illit- 
erate, she  refused  to  live  with  him.  He  appealed  to  the 
law  to  compel  her  to  do  so.  The  case  was  carried  from 
court  to  court,  till  the  High  Court  ordered  Rukhmabi 
either  to  live  with  Dadaji  as  his  wife,  or  go  to  prison  for 
six  months.  A compromise  was  effected.  A sum  of 
money  sufficient  to  buy  another  wife  was  paid  to  Dadaji. 


LIFTING  THE  PURDAH 


123 


But  it  was  decreed  that  according  to  Hindu  law,  Rukh- 
mabi  must  never  marry.  She  went  to  London  to  study 
medicine,  took  the  degree  of  M.D.  and  returned  to 
India  to  take  charge  of  a hospital  for  women.  While 
no  comment  is  made  on  the  fact  that  Dadaji  must  “ buy  ” 
another  wife,  it  would  suggest  that  he  was  so  disgustingly 
ineligible  that  contrary  to  the  usual  custom  of  demanding 
a dowry,  he  was  forced  to  pay  for  a wife.1 

In  spite  of  legislation  and  agitation  against  it,  infant 
and  child  marriage  are  very  common.  “ There  are  nine 
million  girl  wives  between  the  ages  of  one  and  fifteen,  of 
whom  two  and  a half  million  are  under  eleven.”  2 Al- 
though Orientals  mature  somewhat  earlier  than  we  do, 
they  themselves  recognize  that  the  vitality  of  both  their 
men  and  women  is  drained  by  these  early  marriages,  and 
they  are  trying  to  raise  the  legal  marriage  age. 

In  1890  the  tragic  death  in  Calcutta  of  a child  wife, 
a little  girl  eleven  years  old,  because  of  the  treatment  she 
suffered  from  her  husband,  a man  of  thirty,  resulted  in 
agitation  which  ultimately  led  the  British  Government  to 
pass  a law  raising  the  age  of  consent  from  ten  to  twelve 
years.  Hindus  resented  this  interference  with  their  cus- 
toms, and  when  the  bill  came  up  for  passage  there  was 
intense  excitement.  Crowds  paraded  the  streets  day  and 
night  screaming,  “ Our  religion  is  in  danger.”  There 
was  a day  of  fasting,  and  a monster  mass  meeting  with  an 
attendance  estimated  at  100,000.  Speeches  were  deliv- 
ered from  twelve  platforms.  Against  this  hysteria  were 
ranged  all  the  forces  of  reform  in  the  country.  Mission- 
aries, Samajes,  and  progressive  Hindus  joined  in  sending 

1 Quoted  by  Farquhar,  “ Modern  Religious  Movements  in  India.” 

2 Speech  of  Mr.  Montagu,  then  under-Secretary  of  State  for  India, 
on  Indian  budget,  1911. 


12  4 


India’s  silent  revolution 


representatives  before  the  Viceroy’s  Council  to  urge  the 
passage  of  the  bill. 

Since  then,  the  native  states  have  taken  steps  in  the 
same  direction.  An  Infant  Marriage  Prevention  Act 
passed  by  the  Gaekwar  of  Baroda  in  1901  set  the  mini- 
mum age  in  his  state  for  the  marriage  of  boys  at  sixteen, 
and  girls  at  twelve.  Ten  years  later  the  Census  Commis- 
sioner of  Baroda  published  a review  of  the  workings  of 
the  act.  Some  22,218  applications  for  exemption  were 
made  in  the  ten  years,  and  of  these  95  per  cent,  were  al- 
lowed. Over  23,000  marriages  were  performed  in  viola- 
tion of  the  Act,  without  applying  for  an  exemption, 
thereby  incurring  fines  of  from  a few  to  a hundred  rupees. 
There  were  probably  an  equal  number  of  violations  not  re- 
corded through  giving  false  ages.  “ The  age  returns  are 
notoriously  unreliable,  but  even  thus  there  were  158  per 
thousand  males  and  277  per  thousand  females  married  and 
widowed  under  ten  years  of  age.”  1 

In  Mysore,  another  native  state,  an  Act  forbids  the 
marriage  of  girls  under  eight  altogether,  and  forbids  the 
marriage  of  girls  under  fourteen  with  men  over  fifty. 
In  1915,  the  Conference  of  All  India  Orthodox  Hindus 
passed  a resolution  recommending  that  “ the  minimum 
marriageable  age  of  boys  be  fixed  at  eighteen  years  and 
that  of  girls  at  eight  years.”  2 It  is  impossible  from  Oc- 
cidental standards,  to  characterize  men  who  consider  a 
minimum  marriage  age  of  eight  years  for  girls  as  a re- 
form measure! 

Child  marriages  mean  of  course  that  Indian  girls  begin 
child-bearing  very  young.  Men  doctors  are  not  permit- 
ted to  attend  them,  and  such  unskillful  midwifery  as  is 

1 Times  of  India,  quoted  by  Farquhar. 

2 Indian  Social  Reformer,  May,  1915. 


LIFTING  THE  PURDAH 


125 


available,  together  with  the  premature  strain  of  child- 
bearing, results  in  a high  mortality  for  both  mothers  and 
babies.  Professor  James  Bissett  Pratt  of  Williams  Col- 
lege makes  the  statement  that  “ about  25  per  cent,  of 
Hindu  women  die  prematurely  through  early  marriages, 
and  as  many  more  become  semi-invalids  from  the  same 
cause.”  1 

Not  more  than  three  million  of  the  one  hundred  and 
fifty  million  women  of  India  are  within  reach  of  compe- 
tent medical  aid.  Even  before  the  war  the  shortage  of 
women  doctors  was  such  that  hospitals  had  been  closed 
for  lack  of  them.  One  shrinks  from  imagining  the  suf- 
fering which  such  figures  imply.  Indian  infant  mortal- 
ity figures  tell  the  same  story.  The  infant  death  rate 
per  thousand  live  births  average  21 1 for  India  as  com- 
pared with  124  in  the  United  States  and  105  in  England. 
It  is  estimated  that  one  quarter  of  the  infants  born  die 
in  their  first  year.2 

The  tragic  need  of  Indian  women  for  more  adequate 
medical  care  has  resulted  in  the  rapid  growth  of  medical 
missions,  and  the  woman  doctor  paves  the  way  for  the 
zenana  teacher  and  other  liberal  influences.  The  wives 
of  two  viceroys  founded  large  funds,  which  have  been 
augmented  by  private  subscription  and  government  aid 
for  reaching  the  women  of  India  with  medical  services. 
These  funds  provide  training  schools  where  Indian  girls 
are  trained  as  nurses  and  doctors.  They  also  provide 
dispensary  and  hospital  services. 

The  Indian  widow  must  drain  the  very  dregs  of  bit- 
terness and  desolation.  When  her  husband  dies  her  hair 

1 “ India  and  Its  Faiths,”  p.  174. 

2 Pramanath  Banerjea,  “A  Study  of  Indian  Economics,”  1916, 
P-  34- 


126 


India’s  silent  revolution 


is  cut  off,  and  for  the  rest  of  her  life  she  must  keep  her 
head  shaved  like  a convict.  Her  jewels  are  taken  away 
by  her  husband's  family  and  her  glass  bracelets  are  broken 
from  her  arms  and  thrown  away.  The  story  goes  that 
when  some  princes  die,  they  have  to  bring  the  broken 
bracelets  away  from  the  palace  in  cart  loads ! 

A widow  may  never  marry  again  on  the  theory  that  the 
woman  must  keep  herself  inviolate  for  her  husband  in 
the  next  life,  a bit  of  sentiment  which  would  be  more 
appealing  if  it  worked  both  ways.  Needless  to  say,  it 
does  not.  Widowers  remarry,  as  a matter  of  course,  and 
if  a man’s  first  wife  is  barren,  or  “ bad  tempered,”  he 
may  take  another  wife  at  his  pleasure  during  her  lifetime. 
It  is  quite  customary  for  rajahs  and  princes  to  have  sev- 
eral wives. 

Infant  betrothals  are  considered  as  binding  as  mar- 
riage, so  that  little  baby  girls  have  actually  been  born  into 
the  world  widowed.  Little  girls  are  frequently  married 
to  old  men  of  fifty  and  sixty,  and  the  death  of  these  men 
while  their  wives  are  still  young  further  augments  the 
vast  number  of  Indian  widows. 

There  are  about  twenty-six  million  widows,  of  whom 
112,000  are  under  ten  years  of  age  and  about  300,000 
additional  are  under  fifteen.  According  to  the  Year 
Book,  some  17  per  cent,  of  the  women  of  India  are  wid- 
ows, as  compared  with  a normal  average  of  9 per  cent,  in 
Europe.  As  these  widows,  married  while  still  children, 
are  uneducated  and  unfitted  to  earn  a living,  they  are 
usually  obliged  to  live  with  the  family  of  their  dead  hus- 
band. They  are  looked  down  upon  because  their  unlucky 
star  was  responsible  for  his  death,  and  they  must  earn 
their  keep  by  the  most  menial  work.  Naturally  youth 


LIFTING  THE  PURDAH 


127 


rebels,  and  the  anomalous  position  of  these  girls  results 
in  many  tragedies. 

One  winter  when  cholera  was  raging  in  the  United 
Provinces,  I walked  through  a village  whose  homes  had 
been  practically  wiped  out  by  the. plague.  In  a jungle 
beyond  the  village  I found,  lying  across  the  path,  two 
women  with  shaven  heads,  widows.  They  were  uncon- 
scious. My  companion  and  I picked  them  up  and  carried 
them  to  a dispensary.  They  were  old  women  and  had 
been  widowed  when  young.  For  years  they  had  lived 
with  their  husbands’  families,  doing  all  the  heaviest  and 
most  disagreeable  work.  When  plague  came  to  the  vil- 
lage, it  was  decided  that  they  being  women  of  ill  omen, 
were  responsible  for  it.  To  drive  the  devil  out,  the  ryots 
beat  these  women  into  insensibility  and  then  dragged 
them  out  of  the  village. 

In  an  orphanage  I saw  a young  cripple.  His  father 
had  died  before  his  birth,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  born, 
his  mother  was  driven  out  of  her  village.  With  the  baby 
in  her  arms  she  tried  vainly  to  find  work,  to  beg  food. 
The  days  passed  and  she  saw  her  little  boy  starving  to 
death  in  her  arms,  for  no  one  would  pity  an  accursed 
widow.  Finally  in  desperation,  she  put  horse  chestnuts 
against  the  boy’s  hip  joints  and  bound  them  down  with 
a wet  cloth.  She  left  them  there  until  the  joints  had 
bruised  and  festered  into  open  sores.  Then,  unbinding 
the  little  suffering  body,  she  held  him  in  her  arms,  and 
begged  for  her  cripple  baby.  Passersby  pitied  them,  and 
her  terrible  tragic  ruse  succeeded.  But  the  boy  will  al- 
ways be  lame. 

Agitation  in  favor  of  the  remarriage  of  widows  is  mak- 
ing headway,  and  progressive  Indian  papers  record  oc- 


128 


India’s  silent  revolution 


casional  remarriages.  A recent  notice  of  the  remar- 
riage of  a Brahman  widow  “ according  to  orthodox  rites  ” 
mentioned  that  “ the  marriage  was  attended  by  several 
influential  men  of  the  town  ” (giving  their  names),  “ and 
by  a number  of  students.”  The  groom  was  twenty  and 
the  widowed  bride  — fourteen.  Many  progressive  In- 
dians however  still  feel  that  only  virgin  widows  should  be 
remarried. 

Since  the  very  beginning  of  work  for  women  by  women 
missionaries,  Christian  missions  have  established  widows’ 
homes  where  the  women  are  educated  and  trained  to  earn 
their  living.  In  1887  Hindu  social  reformers  took  up 
the  work,  with  the  establishment  of  their  first  home  in 
Calcutta.  Since  then  such  homes  have  multiplied  rap- 
idly. The  Arya  and  Deva  Samajes  and  numerous  indi- 
viduals have  built  homes.  Some  of  them  are  aided  by 
government  appropriations.  Notice  of  the  marriage  of  a 
widow  at  the  premises  of  the  Hindu  Widows’  Home, 
conducted  by  the  Bombay  Social  Reform  Association, 
ended  with  the  words,  “ this  is  the  fifth  marriage  cele- 
brated under  the  auspices  of  the  Hindu  Widows’  Home.” 

In  the  old  days  sati  provided  a way  out  for  many  wid- 
ow’s. This  was  the  custom  of  the  widow’s  throwing  her- 
self into  the  flames  of  her  husband's  funeral  pyre.  In 
1829  the  Viceroy  issued  an  order  forbidding  sati.  As 
there  wras  already  a strong  sentiment  against  the  custom 
among  progressive  Indians,  the  custom  is  to-day  prac- 
tically obsolete,  though  there  are  still  isolated  cases. 
The  New  Times  of  Karachi  reported  in  April,  1918: 
“ A young  Hindu  widow,  whose  husband  died  in  the  last 
plague,  burnt  herself  to  death  with  kerosene  oil.  It  is 
said  that  she  ceased  talking  with  anybody  from  the  day 
her  husband  passed  away.”  Such  individual  cases  may 


LIFTING  THE  PURDAH  I29 

amount  to  no  more  than  the  occasional  suicide  of  grief- 
stricken  widows  in  any  country. 

The  orthodox  Hindu’s  only  alternative  to  finding  and 
paying  for  a husband  for  each  daughter  has  been  to  dedi- 
cate her  to  the  gods  at  birth.  Devadasi,  they  call  her, 
a servant  of  the  gods.  We  translate  it  dancing  girl. 
Groups  of  these  girls  live  in  the  important  temples,  and 
are  nominally  wives  of  the  gods,  dancing  and  singing  at 
all  important  religious,  political,  and  social  functions. 
They  are  the  only  women  who  are  allowed  to  learn  to 
sing  and  dance.  The  more  promising  girls  are  educated, 
serving  as  courtesans  to  the  priests  and  public ; they  cor- 
respond on  a lower  scale  of  culture  to  the  Hierodouloi 
of  ancient  Greek  civilization. 

Complete  segregation  of  the  Hindu  wife  from  her 
husband’s  social  life  leaves  a large  gap  for  the  nautch 
or  dancing  girls  to  fill.  A high-caste  Hindu  woman  of 
orthodox  circles  never  appears  when  her  husband  en- 
tertains in  his  own  home.  As  a group  of  men  cannot 
amuse  themselves  with  eating  and  talking  indefinitely,  it 
has  been  customary  to  bring  dancing  girls  into  private 
homes  for  practically  all  parties.  Formerly  they  took 
part  at  marriages  and  all  other  ceremonies,  and  as  a mark 
of  respect  they  accompanied  prominent  men  on  formal 
and  state  calls. 

The  British  Governor  of  Madras  in  the  early  nineties 
was  the  first  official  who  refused  to  attend  parties  where 
nautch  girls  appeared,  a precedent  which  is  now  generally 
accepted.  This  official  attitude,  combined  with  the  work 
of  missionaries  and  of  Hindu  societies,  is  producing  a 
wholesome  effect;  but  even  to-day  motion  picture  con- 
cerns still  advertise  in  Indian  newspapers : “ Exhibitors 
before  Rajas  and  Princes  of  India,  their  Excellencies 


130 


INDIA  S SILENT  REVOLUTION 


Lord  and  Lady  Willingdon.  Work  undertaken  at  mar- 
riage, nautch  and  evening  parties.” 

The  Government  policy  of  refusing  to  interfere  with 
social  and  religious  customs,  as  enunciated  by  Queen 
Victoria  in  her  proclamation  of  1858,  has  been  in  the 
main  wise.  The  gradual  evolution  worked  by  education 
and  by  the  example  of  the  European  and  missionary  com- 
munities accomplishes  its  reforms  slowly  but  more  surely 
than  could  be  hoped  for  by  enforced  legislation.  Only 
a few  times  has  Government  departed  from  this  rule,  first 
with  its  act  against  sati  in  1829,  again  in  1856  with  an 
act  legalizing  the  marriage  of  Indian  widows,  and  in  1891 
with  an  age  of  consent  law. 

Educating  a woman  is,  according  to  the  old  Hindu 
fable,  like  putting  a knife  in  the  hands  of  a monkey. 
Women  as  a sex  are  considered  incapable  of  learning. 
As  for  the  exceptional  woman,  “ even  though  one  par- 
ticularly brilliant  was  found,”  runs  the  old  saying,  “ to 
teach  her  would  be  like  feeding  a serpent  milk;  she  would 
merely  turn  her  education  into  poison.” 

Child  marriage  has  made  education  almost  impossible 
for  women,  because  little  girls  who  must  assume  all  the 
responsibilities  of  womanhood  at  eight  and  ten  years  of 
age  are  too  preoccupied  to  be  apt  scholars.  It  is  not  un- 
common in  the  village  mission  schools  to  see  three  gen- 
erations of  women  studying  the  same  lessons  side  by  side. 
Everywhere  one  sees  child  mothers,  their  babies  at  their 
breasts,  their  young  faces  shaded  by  a wistful  maturity 
that  is  pathetic. 

The  result  of  forcing  premature  responsibility  upon 
generations  of  women  is  evidenced  in  any  gathering  of 
men  and  women.  In  villages  among  the  lower  castes, 
the  seclusion  of  women  is  not  enforced.  Men  and 


LIFTING  THE  PURDAH  I3I 

women  frequently  gather  in  the  little  open  square  which 
forms  the  village  meeting  place,  women  sitting  one  side, 
men  on  the  other.  I remember  attending  a meeting  of  a 
village  council,  or  panchaiyat,  called  to  honor  a member 
of  their  village,  an  outcaste  who  had  just  been  decorated 
by  the  Government  for  heroic  service  in  plague  relief. 
Sikhs  with  long  white  whiskers,  select  men  in  white  robes 
and  scarlet  and  vivid  green  turbans,  made  a dignified  and 
impressive  body.  The  outcastes,  sitting  on  the  edge  of 
the  groups,  bareheaded,  a piece  of  cloth  tucked  about 
their  hips,  though  not  particularly  dignified,  were  inter- 
ested and  absorbed  in  what  was  going  on.  Over  on  the 
women’s  side  it  was  constant  restlessness  and  giggling. 
A woman  reached  for  a grasshopper,  missed  it,  and  they 
all  tittered.  In  repose  their  eyes  were  dull  and  listless. 
When  they  lighted  it  was  only  with  a vacant  stare.  There 
was  no  sign  of  their  giving  intelligent  attention,  or  fol- 
lowing the  speeches  with  any  interest.  The  moment  the 
meeting  was  over,  what  a change.  Then  came  the  part 
of  life  that  was  her  affair.  Reaching  out  for  her  baby  — 
for  they  all  have  babies  — each  woman  set  him  astride 
her  hip,  and  hurried  off  to  the  little  clay  oven  against 
the  wall  of  her  house,  to  resume  her  work. 

Indian  women  are  devoted  and  faithful  mothers,  and 
their  sons  appreciate  it.  Much  as  the  Indian  despises 
women  as  a sex,  he  always  speaks  of  his  mother  with  ex- 
travagant devotion.  He  is  even  beginning  to  realize  the 
disadvantages  to  himself  of  debarring  women  from  all 
education  and  culture.  It  is  dawning  upon  him  that, 
though  Indian  women  may  possess  instinctively  all  the 
most  ideal  maternal  qualities,  illiterate,  superstitious 
women  are  incapable  of  creating  the  home  atmosphere  of 
a woman  who  is  educated  and  intelligent.  It  is  the  old,  old 


132 


India’s  silent  revolution 


argument  as  to  whether  it  is  worth  while  to  educate 
women.  It  has  been  threshed  out  all  over  the  world,  and 
everywhere  women  ultimately  win.  India  is  still  thresh- 
ing it  out,  or,  rather,  she  is  just  beginning.  In  the  coun- 
tries of  the  world  about  three  times  as  many  men  com- 
mit suicide  as  women.  In  India  more  women  take  their 
own  lives  than  men. 

It  is  ironically  appropriate  that  in  this  land  where 
women  have  suffered  so  much  bitterness,  the  most  extrav- 
agantly beautiful  and  precious  building  of  the  entire 
country  should  have  been  built  in  memory  of  a woman,  a 
shrine  to  commemorate  the  love  and  devotion  that  one 
man  bore  his  wife. 

“ Fabric  of  enchantment,  hewn 
From  lucent  quarries  of  the  moon.” 

The  Taj  Mahal  was  built  by  Shah  Jehan,  sorrowing  over 
the  death  of  his  favorite  wife.  Shah  Jehan  was  a grand- 
son of  that  greatest  figure  in  Indian  history,  Akbar  the 
Great,  the  first  Mogul  Emperor  of  Hindustan.  It  was 
about  1630  that  Mumtaz-i-Mahal  (Chosen  of  the  Palace) 
who  had  been  the  Shah's  favorite  wife  for  fourteen  years, 
died  in  bearing  her  eighth  child.  Although  the  shah 
had  many  other  wives  to  console  him,  he  mourned  for 
her  all  his  life,  and  swore  that  she  should  have  the  most 
perfect  and  wonderful  tomb  in  the  world.  He  kept 
22,000  men  at  work  in  night  and  day  shifts  for  twenty 
years  carving  lace-like  traceries  of  marble  screens,  and 
inlaying  the  precious  mosaics  of  floor  and  ceiling.  After 
he  had  reigned  for  thirty  years,  one  of  his  sons  rose  up 
and  deposed  him,  and  when  at  last  it  came  Shah  Jehan's 
time  to  die,  he  was  a lonely  old  man,  imprisoned  in  a tiny 
room  of  what  had  been  his  palace,  with  only  one  of  his 


LIFTING  THE  PURDAH 


133 


wives  left  to  wait  upon  him.  When  the  end  came  his  last 
request  was  that  his  bed  should  be  moved  to  a window 
where  he  could  see  the  Taj  Mahal,  and  the  old  man  died 
gazing  upon  this  marble  jewel  that  held  the  body  of  the 
woman  he  had  loved  wrhen  he  and  the  world  were  young. 
Stories  that  come  down  through  the  years  suggest  that 
Mumtaz-i-Mahal  was  something  more  than  a favorite 
wife,  that  she  was  a real  person.  When  Jehan  led  his 
armies  out  to  fight  the  enemy,  she  used  to  follow  secretly 
with  her  retinue,  and  when  darkness  fell,  she  and  her 
women  worked  all  night  long  on  the  battlefield,  minis- 
tering to  the  wounded  and  dying,  “ pouring  oil  on  their 
wounds  and  wine  between  their  lips.” 

When  she  died,  and  it  was  noised  abroad  that  Shah 
Jehan  was  building  her  a magnificent  tomb,  all  India  sent 
gifts  to  the  building  of  it,  because  she  was  universally 
loved.  Jeypore,  the  wonderful  rose  colored  city,  sent 
marble,  and  Mysore  and  Hyderabad  sent  gold.  Copper 
for  the  magnificent  doors  came  from  the  Himalayas,  and 
diamonds,  emeralds,  rubies,  jasper  and  onyx  from  the 
mines  of  southern  India. 

Coming  down  through  the  years,  the  name  and  achieve- 
ment of  a woman  in  every  generation  or  two  stands  out, 
eloquent  of  the  latent  capacity  of  the  women  of  India,  and 
of  an  indomitable  instinct  to  rise  despite  all  handicaps. 
There  was  the  young  girl  Toru  Dutt,  of  whose  verses  Ed- 
mund Gosse  the  English  critic  wrote,  “ It  is  impossible  to 
exaggerate  what  we  have  lost  in  the  premature  death  of 
Toru  Dutt.  Literature  has  no  honors  which  need  have 
been  beyond  the  reach  of  a girl  who  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
one  had  produced  so  much  of  lasting  worth.”  The  poem 
which  first  attracted  Gosse’s  attention  to  Miss  Dutt  is 
well  worth  quoting : 


134 


India’s  silent  revolution 


“ Still  barred  the  doors.  The  far  east  glows, 

The  morning  wind  blows  fresh  and  free. 

Should  not  the  hour  that  wakes  the  rose 
Awaken  also  thee? 

“All  look  for  thee  — love,  light,  and  song: 

Light  in  the  sky,  deep  red  above, 

Song  in  the  lark  of  pinions  strong, 

And  in  my  heart,  true  love.” 

Conspicuous  among  the  women  who  have  taken  the 
lead  in  the  education  and  elevation  of  women  in  India 
is  Pandita  Ramabai.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a Hindu 
scholar.  Her  parents  died  of  famine,  and  she  was  left 
a widow  when  very  young.  Instead  of  being  crushed, 
these  trials  only  roused  in  her  an  unconquerable  spirit. 
Alone,  young  and  without  precedent,  she  set  out  as  a cru- 
sader in  behalf  of  the  women  of  India.  She  sprang  into 
prominence  in  1882  when  her  evidence  on  women’s  edu- 
cation before  the  Indian  Education  Commission  revealed 
her  as  a woman  of  marked  ability. 

She  was  educated  in  England,  and  returning  to  India 
she  founded  at  Poona  a home  for  Indian  widows,  which 
was  partially  financed  by  friends  she  had  made  during  a 
visit  to  the  United  States.  The  famine  of  1900  brought 
2,000  orphans  to  her  home,  in  addition  to  her  previous 
work.  With  fine  resourcefulness  and  administrative 
ability,  she  has  carried  on  her  work  through  staggering 
difficulties.  She  is  head  of  a home  of  1,000  widows  at 
Kedgaon  near  Poona,  and  has  organized  a splendid  in- 
dustrial school  there,  fitting  these  widows  to  leave  the 
home  and  go  out  to  earn  their  own  living.  They  make 
the  finest  laces,  boxes  of  wood  and  cardboard,  weave  car- 
pets and  Oriental  rugs,  and  do  fine  embroidery.  They 
have  a contract  for  supplying  the  Government  with  the 


An  Indian  barrister  and  his  progressive  family  Starting  for  the  Baby  Health  Show 


LIFTING  THE  PURDAH 


135 


embroidered  devices  which  the  railroad  conductors  and 
guards  wear  on  cap  and  arm.  She  also  has  a farm,  run 
on  scientific  methods,  where  women  are  taught  truck 
farming. 

It  was  the  early  missionaries  who  first  undertook  con- 
structive work  for  women.  The  missionaries’  wives  be- 
gan by  visiting  the  women  in  the  zenanas,  and  as  they 
made  friends  they  organized  classes  in  reading,  writing, 
and  household  arts.  There  was  prejudice  against  per- 
mitting western  women  to  enter  the  women’s  apartments 
at  first,  but  the  Hindu  women  themselves  enjoyed  it,  and 
soon  there  came  an  increasing  demand  for  women  mis- 
sionaries to  carry  on  work  among  women. 

Early  in  the  nineteenth  century,  the  Brahma  and  Arya 
Samajes  took  up  the  crusade  for  improving  the  status  of 
women.  The  Government  has  made  no  aggressive  efforts 
in  this  direction,  but  is  offering  increasing  facilities  for 
the  education  of  women  as  the  demand  grows. 

Only  2 per  cent,  of  the  girls  of  school  going  age  were 
in  school  in  1902,  but  this  average  trebled  in  ten  years,  and 
there  are  now  6 per  cent.  To-day  agitation  on  the  sub- 
ject of  education  for  women  is  widespread.  The  exper- 
ience of  teachers,  as  to  the  actual  demand,  varies.  The 
Director  of  Education  writes: 

“ As  usual,  the  reports  give  varying  accounts  of  the 
enthusiasm  or  indifference  displayed  as  regards  girls’ 
education.  The  Director  in  Bombay  says  that  outside 
of  Bombay  and  Poona,  secondary  schools  for  girls  would 
not  exist  without  the  help  of  missions  and  those  that  do 
exist  have  very  few  girls  in  them. 

“ The  Director  in  Bengal  says  that  the  education  of 
girls  of  the  Hindu  middle  class  up  to  a certain  standard 
has  become  a practical  necessity : that  even  the  orthodox 


136 


India’s  silent  revolution 


Hindu  parent  is  beginning  to  realize  the  advantage  of  a 
well-conducted  school  over  home  instruction,  and  that 
parents  of  this  class  are  now  ready  to  pay  for  their  girls’ 
instruction. 

“ Everywhere  in  India  there  is  demand  for  more 
women  teachers,  and  to  meet  this  need  training  schools  for 
widows  have  been  founded  and  it  is  hoped  to  use  them 
widely  as  teachers  for  women.”  1 

Colleges  for  women  are  springing  up  all  over  the  coun- 
try. There  are  two  in  Madras  — the  Government  Col- 
lege for  Women  and  Union  Christian  Women’s  College. 
India's  first  university  for  women  has  opened  in  Poona, 
and  graduates  its  first  class  in  1919.  As  the  most  beau- 
tiful memorial  in  all  India  was  built  bv  a man  for  a 
woman,  so,  too  the  most  lavish  and  splendid  gift  made  in 
recent  years  is  from  a man  for  many  women.  The  Ma- 
harajah Kumar  of  Tikari  has  given  his  entire  estate  val- 
ued at  $7,000,000  to  found  an  institution  for  the  educa- 
tion of  Indian  women.  The  school  will  be  open  to  girls 
from  five  to  eighteen  years  old,  and  there  will  be  no  dis- 
tinctions of  caste  or  creed.  This  magnificent  gift  was 
inspired  by  the  Maharajah’s  wife  to  whom  he  was  de- 
voted. The  Maharajah  was  educated  in  England,  and 
spent  two  years  fighting  with  the  Allies  in  France.  The 
site  for  the  school  is  the  gift  of  another  man,  a promi- 
nent Indian  lawyer. 

The  pioneer  of  all  these  institutions  is  the  Isabella 
Thoburn  College  in  Lucknow,  which  was  built  by  a group 
of  American  Methodist  women,  thirty-six  years  ago.  It 
was  the  first  institution  of  college  grade,  exclusively  for 
women,  anywhere  in  the  Orient.  This  group  of  Ameri- 

1 Annual  Report,  Education  Department,  1914-15. 


LIFTING  THE  PURDAH 


137 


can  women  had  faith  in  the  future  of  education  of  women. 
It  was  a bold  adventure  to  build  this  college  at  a time 
when  colleges  for  women  in  their  own  country  had  not 
passed  an  experimental  stage,  and  when  cartoons  of  Miss 
Blue  Stocking  with  spectacles  and  a Boston  bag  were  still 
the  height  of  humor. 

Not  at  all  intimidated  by  the  difficulty  of  their  task, 
Indian  feminists  now  and  then  show  a delightful  audacity. 
Mrs.  K.  D.  Rukmanianna,  Superintendent  of  the  Mahar- 
ani’s  College,  Mysore,  in  a recent  speech  criticized  se- 
verely the  specialized  curriculum  which  Indian  educa- 
tional authorities  are  framing  for  Indian  girls.  Una- 
bashed by  the  fact  that  there  are  only  thirteen  literate 
women  per  thousand  in  India,  Mrs.  Rukmanianna  de- 
mands for  her  sex  the  same  type  of  education  as  is  given 
to  boys.  Her  reasons  are  reminiscent  of  those  we  heard 
advanced  against  old-school  educators  in  this  country  not 
many  years  ago.  The  curriculum  had  been  framed  with 
special  reference  to  the  “ needs  of  the  girl  in  the  home,” 
as  they  phrased  it,  and  included  chiefly  a study  of  do- 
mestic arts,  how  to  cook,  sew,  darn,  and  keep  the  house 
clean.  “ This  is  what  I may  term  the  domestic  ideal  of 
woman’s  education,  and  a very  ancient  ideal  no  doubt,” 
said  Mrs.  Rukmanianna,  and  added  scornfully,  “ It 
may  satisfy  the  men,  but  it  does  not  at  all  represent  mod- 
ern ideals  of  women’s  education.  If  it  is  so  necessary  to 
train  these  girls  to  be  ‘ good  wives  and  mothers,’  may  I 
ask  what  efforts  are  being  made  to  train  the  boys  to  be 
good  husbands  and  wise  parents?  ” 

It  seems  scarcely  accurate  to  speak  of  a woman’s  move- 
ment in  India  when  only  1 per  cent,  of  the  women  can 
read  and  write.  And  yet  there  is  a tremendous  potential 
restlessness  among  them.  “ Women  must  solve  the  prob- 


138  India’s  silent  revolution 

lems  of  humanity,”  is  the  quotation  from  Ibsen  which 
dedicates  a book  written  a couple  of  years  ago  by  the  Ma- 
harani  of  Baroda,  astute  wife  of  that  progressive  states- 
man, the  Gaekwar.  It  is  a guide  book  for  a nation  of 
women  in  captivity,  pointing  to  them  a wray  out.  Sys- 
tematically it  records  the  variety  of  occupations  followed 
by  women  in  England,  Europe,  and  the  United  States, 
with  adaptations  to  local  conditions,  and  with  emphasis 
on  the  types  of  work  which  seem  most  easily  accessible. 

There  are  a number  of  Indian  women  in  literary  and 
journalistic  work.  The  Maharani  of  Bhavnager  edits 
a weekly  paper  in  Gujarati,  and  is  vice-president  of  the 
Society  of  Women  Journalists.  She  is  the  author  of  a 
life  of  Lord  Kitchener,  who  was  her  friend.  Her  High- 
ness, the  Begum  of  Bhopal,  is  a progressive  and  influen- 
tial woman.  Her  state  ranks  high  for  its  progressive 
legislation.  There  are  numerous  important  names  in 
private  life;  Mrs.  Sarojini  is  an  eloquent  speaker,  and  a 
leader  in  political  and  educational  subjects.  Mrs.  Ram- 
abai  Ranade  and  Pandita  Ramabai  are  conspicuous  in 
social  work,  and  the  Sorabji  sisters  in  education.  The 
thirteen  year  old  granddaughter  of  Sir  Dinsha  Wacha 
has  written  an  account  of  the  causes  and  events  of  the 
war.  It  is  illustrated  by  a series  of  war  cartoons  which 
she  drew,  and  was  published  for  charity!  Evidently 
India  too  has  her  little  girl  prodigies. 

Mohammedan,  Hindu,  and  Parsi  ladies  are  heads  of 
numerous  industrial  homes  and  institutions  for  promoting 
women’s  education,  and  they  hold  frequent  public  meet- 
ings and  conferences.  In  response  to  their  agitation  a 
park  has  been  set  aside  in  Calcutta  for  the  exclusive  use 
of  women  and  children.  Here  in  the  desolating  heat  of 
midsummer,  when  all  the  Europeans  have  fled  to  the 


LIFTING  THE  PURDAH 


139 


hills,  the  wilting  purdah  women  of  the  city  may  escape 
from  their  crowded  and  ill-ventilated  homes  for  a breath 
of  air. 

The  Seva  Sedan  is  a lay  sisterhood,  with  headquarters 
in  Bombay,  which  devotes  itself  to  social  service  activities 
among  all  classes.  There  are  resident  women  doctors 
and  nurses,  and  sisterhoods  are  maintained  for  Hindu, 
Parsi,  and  Mohammedan  women.  There  are  other  sim- 
ilar organizations. 

The  annual  conferences  of  the  numerous  social-service 
organizations  perform  a valuable  office  in  keeping  reso- 
lutions and  speeches  on  social  conditions  affecting  women 
constantly  before  the  public.  Last  year  the  Sind  Pro- 
vincial Conference  was  broken  up,  owing  to  violent  op- 
position among  orthodox  Hindu  members  against  letting 
a woman  appear  on  the  platform  to  move  a resolution 
relating  to  the  education  of  women.  The  conference 
answered  the  challenge  by  this  year  making  her  their 
presiding  officer.  And  so  far  had  public  opinion  traveled 
in  a single  year  that  the  conference  was  held  undis- 
turbed. Incidentally,  it  passed  a resolution  condemning 
the  heavy  prices  being  paid  for  bridegrooms  in  that 
province ! 

The  All-India  Muslim  Ladies’  Conference  meeting  in 
Lahore  recently  passed  a resolution  denouncing  the 
evils  of  polygamous  marriages,  and  pledging  themselves 
not  to  give  their  daughters  as  plural  wives.  This  stirred 
up  a storm  among  the  men,  who  resent  feminine  inter- 
ference with  their  prerogatives. 

The  Bombay  Social  Service  League  at  its  1918  confer- 
ence passed  a resolution  urging  that  the  franchise  be  ex- 
tended to  women  on  the  same  terms  as  to  men,  and  a 
large  audience  applauded  the  resolution  enthusiastically, 


140  India’s  silent  revolution 

after  it  had  been  interpreted.  For  this  audience  included 
many  cultivators,  artisans,  and  petty  traders,  who  re- 
fused to  allow  the  speakers  to  use  English,  so  they  had  to 
have  a series  of  speakers  in  vernaculars,  one  after  the 
other.  It  was  at  this  conference  which  was  held  in  Bom- 
bay in  May,  1918,  that  the  two  hundred  chairs  reserved 
for  ladies  was  not  nearly  enough,  and  more  had  to  be 
brought  in,  while  nearly  half  the  platform  was  filled  with 
women.  The  suffrage  resolution  came  up  as  the  result 
of  a petition  signed  by  one  hundred  prominent  Indian 
ladies  of  Bombay. 

It  was  at  the  Madras  Provincial  Social  Conference  in 
the  same  month  that  Mrs.  Sarojini  Devi  made  a stirring 
speech  on  a resolution  recommending  that  intermarriage 
be  allowed  to  all  professing  the  Hindu  religion,  irre- 
spective of  race  or  creed.  Mrs.  Devi  urged  that  the  only 
way  to  achieve  that  national  unity  to  which  all  India 
aspires  is  for  the  women  themselves  to  consummate  a 
unity  of  province  with  province,  of  caste  with  caste,  of 
tradition,  race  and  thought  through  obliterating  all  lines 
of  discrimination  by  the  very  fusion  of  human  blood. 

Taking  the  mass  of  illiterate  Indian  women  as  a class, 
there  is  no  doubt  that  they  are  more  conservative  than  the 
men.  Like  the  fishes  in  the  dark  cave,  who  lost  their 
eyes  because  for  many  generations  they  had  never  used 
them,  these  women  have  lost  all  ambition  for  the  priv- 
ileges and  responsibilities  of  normal  life.  In  educating 
and  liberating  the  women  of  India,  the  greatest  difficulty 
will  be  to  break  down  the  prejudices  and  inhibitions  of  the 
women  themselves. 

Indian  men  realize  this  fact.  In  a discussion  not  long 
ago,  of  how  to  break  down  purdah,  one  man  wrote  to  an 


LIFTING  THE  PURDAH  I4I 

Indian  paper  advising  others  not  to  attempt  to  bring 
their  wives  into  public  life  too  suddenly,  as  it  proves  too 
great  a shock.  He  suggested  as  easy  steps  that  the 
woman  should  first  be  persuaded  not  to  observe  purdah 
before  the  male  members  of  the  family,  however  remote 
their  relationship.  Next,  the  husband  should  take  his 
wife  on  a trip  to  some  city  where  they  were  both  un- 
known, and  “ after  she  has  experienced  a little  freedom 
among  strangers,  she  could  easily  be  induced  to  meet  her 
husband’s  friends.”  From  then  on  it  is  simpler.  “ If 
X introduces  Mrs.  X to  Y,  Y will  feel  himself  under 
social  as  well  as  moral  obligation  to  introduce  Mrs.  Y to 
X.”  Finally  he  recommends  beginning  with  the  daugh- 
ters, because  they  afe  young  and  have  not  so  much  to 
unlearn  and  overcome  in  the  way  of  tradition  and  habit. 

Another  correspondent,  commenting  on  the  praise 
which  had  been  given  in  a previous  issue  to  a father  who 
refused  to  accept  dowry  money  for  his  son,  said  that  the 
man  did  not  deserve  so  much  praise  because  he  was  a 
widower,  and  had  no  grown  daughters  or  sisters  to  exert 
pressure  on  him ! 

It  is  marvelous  that  in  a country  where  such  ugly  and 
vulgar  things  are  thought  and  said  about  women,  a 
woman’s  movement  should  be  stirring,  and  that  its  im- 
portance should  be  recognized  by  individual  men.  K. 
Natarjan,  editor  of  the  Indian  Social  Reformer,  a man 
peculiarly  happy  in  phrasing  thoughts  whose  realization 
lies  in  the  future,  stated  the  importance  of  educating 
Indian  women  in  a recent  speech : 

“ I would  give  the  first  place  in  a program  of  social 
reform  to  universal  free  and  compulsory  education. 
And  in  education,  I would  give  the  first  place  to  the  ed- 


142 


India’s  silent  revolution 


ucation  of  girls.  The  education  of  a single  girl  means 
the  uplifting  of  a whole  family,  and  in  a larger  and 
truer  sense  than  the  education  of  a single  man.” 

The  vital  importance  to  India  of  the  education  of  her 
women  has  been  given  recognition  by  another  man  re- 
cently, a man  whose  opinions  carry  weight,  no  less  a per- 
son than  the  Secretary  of  State  for  India,  Edwin  Mon- 
tagu. In  his  joint  report  with  the  Viceroy  on  proposed 
constitutional  changes  for  India,  he  devotes  a section 
to  education,  and  there  is  an  important  and  significant 
paragraph  in  regard  to  the  education  of  women.  It 
reads : 

“ As  regards  the  limited  diffusion  of  education,  we  also 
take  into  account  the  conservative  prejudices  of  the  coun- 
try. It  is  not  very  long  since  the  advocates  of  the  higher 
education  of  women  in  Europe  were  regarded  as  unprac- 
tical and  subversive  theorists;  and  in  India  social  cus- 
toms have  greatly  multiplied  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of 
female  education.  Upon  this  question  opinion  is  slowly 
but  surely  changing,  and  educated  young  men  of  the  mid- 
dle classes  are  beginning  to  look  for  literate  wives.  But 
so  long  as  education  is  practically  confined  to  one  sex,  the 
social  complexion  of  the  country  must  react  upon  and  re- 
tard political  progress;  and  for  this  reason  we  regard 
the  great  gulf  between  men  and  women  in  respect  of  edu- 
cation as  one  of  the  most  serious  problems  which  has  to 
be  faced  in  India.”  1 

Before  criticizing  India  too  severely  for  her  treatment 
of  her  women,  America  must  take  thought  of  the  very 
inflamed  moat  in  her  own  eye,  that  little  group  of  willful 
men  in  our  Senate  who,  with  the  eyes  of  the  nation  upon 
them,  persistently  refuse  to  remove  some  of  the  disabil- 
1 “ Indian  Constitutional  Reforms,”  1918,  p.  151. 


LIFTING  THE  PURDAH 


T43 


ities  which  still  hang  over  American  women.  Those  of 
us  who  believe  that  there  can  be  no  true  democracy  until 
all  the  citizens  of  a country,  irrespective  of  sex,  share  in 
making  its  laws  and  electing  its  representatives,  watch 
eagerly  the  first  stirrings  of  a woman’s  movement  in 
India.  For  we  believe  that  India  cannot  achieve  her  goal 
until  she  has  raised  the  status  of  her  women. 

The  women  of  India  constitute  another  and  more  nu- 
merous depressed  class.  They  are  a potential  element  in 
her  silent  revoltion.  There  are  fifty-three  million  Un- 
touchables. There  are  three  times  as  many  illiterate,  im- 
prisoned women,  each  one  exerting  upon  the  men  of  her 
family  a force  of  reaction,  ignorance,  and  superstition 
until  education  and  freedom  shall  reach  her  and  set  her 
free. 

That  the  women  of  India  are  not  organized  into  an  ag- 
gressive movement  comparable  to  those  in  European  and 
other  countries  is  quite  immaterial.  The  fact  that  slaves 
rarely  have  the  courage  and  initiative  to  rise  up  and  free 
themselves  does  not  at  all  affect  the  abstract  right  and 
wrong  of  slavery,  nor  does  it  alter  the  injurious  effect 
which  slavery  as  a system  works  upon  a community. 

Not  the  least  of  the  achievements  of  this  war  in  defin- 
ing democracy  and  centering  the  thought  of  the  world 
upon  it,  has  been  the  impetus  it  has  given  to  the  progress 
of  women  all  over  the  world.  A majority  of  English- 
women of  voting  age  have  already  been  enfranchised. 
Women  in  many  of  our  states  vote,  and  President  Wilson 
appeared  before  the  Senate  to  urge  the  passage  of  a Na- 
tional Suffrage  Bill  as  an  essential  war  measure.  In 
India,  too,  the  achievement  of  democracy  and  of  fitness 
for  that  greater  measure  of  responsible  government  within 
the  empire  to  which  she  aspires,  must  be  largely  condi- 


144 


India’s  silent  revolution 


tioned  upon  her  capacity  for  recognizing  the  undemo- 
cratic and  mediaeval  conditions  of  her  two  great  depressed 
classes,  and  by  the  statesmanship  she  shows  in  working 
out  their  emancipation. 


VII 


EDUCATION  AND  DEMOCRACY 

School,  to  any  one  who  has  traveled  in  the  Orient,  sug- 
gests a great  bare  room,  with  dozens  of  little  figures 
squatting  solemnly  on  the  floor,  swaying  back  and  forth 
to  the  rhythm  of  a sing-song  drone  as  they  memorize 
page  after  page  of  the  sayings  of  Confucius  or  Buddha 
or  Mohammed,  or  whoever  the  Lord  of  the  land  may  be. 

In  India,  the  village  school  is  sometimes  stone,  some- 
times a tumble  of  mud  wall  and  grass  thatch,  and  some- 
times it  is  just  the  space  under  the  shade  of  a big  tree. 
There  are  blackboards  on  the  wall,  or  against  the  tree, 
and  when  his  back  is  turned,  a quick  rough  caricature  of 
“ Teacher  ” blossoms  forth  here  just  as  magically  as  on 
blackboards  in  the  United  States.  The  floor  is  strewn 
with  sand  which  the  children  use  as  a big  slate,  learning 
to  trace  their  letters  in  it  with  little  brown  fingers.  The 
furniture  consists  of  a chair  for  teacher,  and  sometimes 
a few  benches. 

Ever  since  England  took  over  the  administration  of 
India,  a dispute  has  waged  as  to  the  merits  of  educating 
Indian  children  in  the  English  language  versus  the  ver- 
naculars. It  involves  more  than  language.  It  has  been 
a question  of  attempting  to  impose  western  philosophy 
and  habits  of  thought  upon  Oriental  minds.  Aside  from 
the  policy,  there  is  the  question  as  to  whether  it  may  be 
done  successfully.  Archaeologists  find  that  the  skull 
shape  of  the  Egyptian  fellaheen  is  identical  to  the  last 

145 


146 


India’s  silent  revolution 


millimeter  in  proportion  and  shape  with  the  skull  of  his 
mummy  ancestor  who  lived  and  died  6000  years  ago. 

Sir  James  Brooke,  the  clever  Englishman  whom  the 
wildmen  of  Borneo  accepted  as  their  Rajah,  said  it  was 
his  ambition  to  make  his  people  good  Malays,  not  yellow 
Englishmen.  Whereas  Macaulay,  who  was  appointed 
chairman  of  the  Committee  of  Public  Instruction  in  1835, 
supported  and  put  through  the  policy  that  “ our  efforts 
ought  to  be  directed  to  make  the  natives  of  this  country 
thoroughly  good  English  scholars.” 

Ram  Mohan  Roy,  founder  of  the  Brahmo  Samaj,  pro- 
testing in  1823  against  the  establishment  of  a Sanskrit 
college,  argued  that  an  English  education  would  contrib- 
ute to  Oriental  culture  those  complementary  qualities 
which  it  lacks.  The  Indian  is  instinctively  a philosopher 
and  a mystic.  He  needs  the  scientific  point  of  view  and 
the  accurate  training  of  the  Occident.  Roy  argued  that 
pupils  in  a Sanskrit  College  would  study  the  culture  of 
2000  years  ago  with  the  addition  of  “ vain  and  empty  sub- 
tleties since  produced  by  speculative  men,  such  as  is  al- 
ready taught  in  all  parts  of  India.” 

The  Macaulay  Minute  of  1835  is  generally  accepted  as 
the  beginning  of  English  education  in  India.  With  its 
sweeping  and  sometimes  intolerant  assertions,  it  put  a 
quietus  on  controversy  and  precipitated  action.  “ I never 
found  one  among  them  ” (the  Orientalists)  “ who  could 
deny  that  a single  shelf  of  a good  European  library  was 
worth  the  whole  native  literature  of  India  and  Arabia,” 
wrote  Macaulay  with  intemperate  vigor.  But  he  ended 
the  long  dispute  as  to  whether  the  lakh  of  rupees  appro- 
priated by  the  British  government  should  be  spent  in 
printing  Sanskrit  books  or  in  building  up  the  foundation 
of  an  English  educational  system. 


EDUCATION  AND  DEMOCRACY 


147 


One  month  after  the  appearance  of  Macaulay’s  Minute, 
the  Governor-General  issued  a resolution  that  “ the  great 
object  of  the  British  Government  ought  to  be  the  promo- 
tion of  European  literature  among  the  natives  of  India, 
and  that  all  the  funds  appropriated  for  the  purpose  of 
education  would  be  best  employed  on  English  education 
alone.” 

By  the  end  of  the  year,  seven  new  educational  institu- 
tions had  been  started,  and  six  more  were  under  way. 
By  1837  there  were  forty-eight  institutions  with  an  en- 
rollment of  5,196  pupils  and  an  average  monthly  expen- 
diture of  over  $8,000  (Rs.  25,439). 

The  year  1854  is  the  second  important  date  in  the  his- 
tory of  education  in  India.  The  dispatch  of  1854  out- 
lines a national  system  of  education  which  in  all  essen- 
tial details  is  still  in  force,  and  has  not  yet  in  fact  been 
completely  carried  out.  This  dispatch  shows  a broader 
tolerance  of  the  vernaculars,  especially  for  teaching  young 
children  in  the  lower  grades ; a policy  which  they  have 
only  begun  to  apply  in  the  last  few  years.  It  was  in  1854 
that  the  system  of  grants-in-aid  began,  whereby  Govern- 
ment agreed  to  subsidize  private  schools  both  Indian  and 
missionary,  which  came  up  to  a certain  standard  and  ac- 
cepted certain  conditions.  At  this  time  there  were  about 
12,000  students  in  government  schools  and  nearly  50,000 
in  missionary  schools. 

The  Commission  of  1882  marked  a set-back  for  educa- 
tion. It  advanced  a policy  of  transferring  schools  and 
colleges  from  government  to  private  ownership,  and,  in 
order  to  encourage  private  ventures,  advised  these  institu- 
tions to  charge  lower  than  government  fees.  The  result 
was  a mushroom  growth  of  small  institutions  with  in- 
competent and  poorly  paid  teachers,  unsanitary  buildings, 


148 


India's  silent  revolution 


and  crowded,  unventilated  classrooms.  There  was  also 
a division  of  government  teaching  forces  into  European 
and  Indian  with  discrimination  against  Indian  teachers, 
which  lowered  the  morale  of  that  force. 

The  annual  crop  of  B.A.’s  multiplied  itself  again  and 
again,  but  the  standard  of  scholarship  steadily  lowered 
till  the  degree  made  to  have  little  value,  and  its  owner 
was  ill-fitted  for  any  occupation.  The  Indian  student’s 
ambitions  had  been  roused  until  he  was  not  contented 
with  the  humble  clerkships  which  he  could  obtain,  but 
his  education  had  given  him  no  competence  to  fill  higher 
positions.  Education  became  a mere  competition  in 
cramming ; the  fellow  with  the  best  memory  won.  There 
was  no  effort  to  teach  students  to  think  and  reason,  no 
attempt  to  recognize  and  encourage  originality  as  dis- 
tinguished from  parrot-like  memorizing. 

There  have  been  two  main  channels  of  education  in 
India  — the  British  Government  and  missions.  Prac- 
tically all  writers  on  India  agree  that  missionaries  have 
been  an  incalculably  important  influence  in  the  educa- 
tional progress  of  the  country. 

Professor  Pratt,  of  Williams  College,  in  his  scholarly 
“ India  and  its  Faiths,”  writes : “ One  is  uncertain 

whether  to  admire  most  the  missionary  hospitals  or  the 
missionary  schools  and  colleges,  both  of  which  have  been 
brought  to  such  a remarkable  development.”  1 

William  Archer  writes : “ The  influence  of  Christian- 

ity is  traceable  in  all  the  intellectual  movements  of  modern 
India,  in  every  reform  indeed  which  does  not  proceed 
directly  from  the  Government,  and  in  many  which  do. 
But  this  merely  means  that  Western  enlightenment  has 


1 “ India  and  Its  Faiths,”  p.  425. 


In  Madras  Christian  College  young  Indian  men  are  learning  to  fight  the  battle  against  ignorance,  caste, 

prejudice  and  atheism 


EDUCATION  AND  DEMOCRACY 


149 


come  to  the  East  in  such  close  association  with  Chris- 
tianity that  it  is  impossible  to  distinguish  between  the  one 
influence  and  the  other.” 

The  history  of  missionary  influence  in  the  education  of 
India  begins  with  William  Carey  and  the  English  Bap- 
tists. The  British  Government  was  so  opposed  to  mis- 
sionaries that  Carey  had  to  slip  into  India  in  1793  as  an 
indigo  planter.  He  carried  on  his  mission  work  as  a side 
issue.  Seven  years  later,  when  Lord  Wellesley  founded 
his  college  in  Calcutta,  Carey  was  the  only  man  available 
to  teach  Sanskrit  and  Bengali.  British  officials  were 
obliged  to  wink  at  the  fact  that  after  spending  his  morn- 
ing lecturing  in  the  college  he  devoted  his  evenings  to 
preaching  on  the  street  to  the  poor  and  outcaste. 

For  some  years,  owing  to  opposition  of  the  Govern- 
ment, further  educational  work  by  missionaries  was  lim- 
ited to  individual  efforts.  It  was  not  until  1813,  when 
the  charter  of  the  East  India  Company  was  renewed  by 
Parliament,  that  missionaries  received  full  freedom  to 
settle  in  India. 

The  man  who  stands  out  most  conspicuously  in  the 
early  history  of  missions  and  education  is  Alexander 
Duff,  who  opened  a school  for  teaching  English  in  Cal- 
cutta in  1830.  Sir  Valentine  Chirol  pays  glowing  tribute 
to  Duff’s  importance  in  those  early  days.  He  credits  him 
with  “ at  least  as  large  a share  of  influence  as  Macaulay’s 
in  determining  the  policy  of  English  education  for  India,” 
with  “ inspiring  the  prohibition  of  suttee  and  other  meas- 
ures ” ; and  with  exerting  decisive  influence  on  Lord 
Hardinge’s  Educational  Order  of  1854,  which  threw  a 
large  number  of  posts  in  the  public  service  open  to  Eng- 
lish-speaking Indians  without  distinction  of  race  or  creed. 

In  regard  to  the  status  of  mission  work  at  that  time. 


150  India’s  silent  revolution 

Chirol  writes:  “The  Christian  missions  were  at  that 

time  the  dominant  factor  in  Indian  educational  work. 
In  1854,  when  there  were  only  twelve  thousand  scholars 
in  all  the  Government  schools,  mission  schools  mustered 
four  times  that  number,  and  the  rights  they  acquired  un- 
der the  Orders  of  1854  to  participate  in  the  new  ‘ grants- 
in-aid  ’ helped  them  to  retain  the  lead  which  in  some  re- 
spects, though  not  as  to  numbers,  they  still  maintain.” 
Dr.  Duff’s  work  was  closely  paralleled  in  the  schools 
started  by  Dr.  John  Wilson  in  Bombay  and  John  Ander- 
son in  Madras. 

The  Indian  Year  Book  of  1917,  in  a summary  of  mis- 
sionary work,  credits  missions  with  exerting  important 
influence  on  the  educational  life  of  India  to-day,  “ which 
lends  itself  only  incompletely  to  any  sort  of  tabulation.” 
There  were  in  1912,  585,000  children  in  16,204  elemen- 
tary schools  conducted  by  missions,  and  mostly  situated 
in  villages.  This  represents  one-ninth  of  the  total  ele- 
mentary schools  throughout  the  empire.  Missions  also 
had  283  middle  and  high  schools  with  287,000  pupils,  and 
38  colleges  affiliated  to  universities  with  10,488  male 
and  120  female  students.  The  majority  of  children  in 
these  schools  are  non-Christian. 

Industrial  and  vocational  education,  has  been  taken 
up  with  especial  interest  in  India  because  it  exactly  fits  the 
needs  of  the  country.  All  criticism  of  British  rule,  and 
all  complaints  of  the  status  of  the  Indian,  gradually  circle 
round,  back  to  the  ryot’s  unimaginable  poverty.  This,  on 
final  analysis  results  from  the  enormous  preponderance 
of  agricultural  laborers  to  the  exclusion  of  all  industry. 

The  curriculum  of  a board  of  education  cannot  be  a 
mercurial  thing  responding  easily  to  barometric  changes. 
But  industrial  education  has  found  expression  in  the  re- 


EDUCATION  AND  DEMOCRACY  I5I 

ports  of  the  Director  of  Education.  He  writes:  “ The 

weaving  institute  near  Calcutta  is  regarded  as  having 
passed  the  experimental  stage  and  shows  promise  of  de- 
velopment. The  applications  for  admission  to  the  higher 
and  artisan  classes  have  increased,  and  numbers  could  be 
doubled  were  accommodations  available.”  1 

He  also  records  progress  in  the  centers  for  mining  in- 
struction and  in  the  artisan  classes.  Attendance  at  the 
Sydenham  College  of  Commerce  has  increased,  but  the 
principal  complains  that  it  is  encumbered  with  youths 
who  have  no  aptitude  for  a business  career  and  mistak- 
enly suppose  that  they  can  gain  a degree  more  easily  than 
at  an  arts  college,  or  will  somehow  obtain  easy  employ- 
ment. It  sounds  like  the  principal  of  an  American  com- 
mercial high  school  in  a moment  of  discouraged  frank- 
ness. But  the  new  industrial  awakening  will  quicken 
youthful  ambition  and  application. 

Forestry  and  veterinary  education,  engineering  and  sur- 
veying schools,  and  agricultural  colleges  are  also  men- 
tioned in  the  report.  The  Director  reports  a total  of 
13,570  students  in  technical  and  industrial  schools,  “an 
utterly  inadequate  total  when  it  is  considered  that  there 
are  over  47,000  pupils  in  art  and  professional  colleges, 
and  over  a million  pupils  in  secondary  schools.  Few 
facts  about  education  in  India  are  so  important  and  sig- 
nificant as  the  comparative  paucity  of  those  who  are  pre- 
paring for  a technical  career.”  A new  survey  class  was 
opened  in  Bihar  and  Orissa,  designed  for  fifty  pupils,  but 
only  fourteen  were  admitted. 

Mr.  Montagu  in  his  Joint  Report,  previously  quoted, 
refers  this  disproportion  of  technically  trained  students, 
and  to  criticism  of  the  British  Government  in  having  fos 

1 Annual  Report,  Educational  Department,  1915-16. 


152 


India’s  silent  revolution 


tered  such  a system.  He  writes : “ The  charge  that 

Government  has  produced  a large  intelligentsia  which 
cannot  find  employment  has  much  substance  in  it.  It  is 
one  of  the  facts  that  lie  at  the  root  of  recent  political  dif- 
ficulties. But  it  is  only  of  late  years  and  as  part  of  the 
remarkable  awakening  of  national  self-consciousness,  that 
the  complaint  has  been  heard  that  the  system  has  failed 
to  train  Indians  for  practical  work  in  manufactures,  com- 
merce, and  the  application  of  science  to  industrial  life. 
The  changing  economic  conditions  of  the  country  have 
brought  this  lesson  home,  and  in  its  acceptance  lies  much 
of  our  hope  for  the  future. 

“ But  it  must  be  remembered  that  many  of  the  par- 
ticular classes  which  eagerly  sought  higher  education  de- 
manded also  that  it  should  be  of  a literary  character, 
and  were  hereditarily  averse  from,  if  not  disdainful  of, 
anything  that  savored  of  manual  toil ; and  also  that  when 
the  universities  of  India  were  founded,  the  idea  of  sci- 
entific and  technological  instruction  had  not  dawned  upon 
universities  in  England.”  1 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  95  per  cent,  of  the  population 
are  engaged  in  agriculture,  or  perhaps  because  of  it,  ag- 
ricultural education  is  urgently  needed.  The  primitive 
make-shift  farming  tools  which  Adam  devised  shortly 
after  being  turned  out  of  the  Garden  of  Eden  are  still 
the  stock-in-trade  of  the  Indian  farmer.  He  plows  with 
a crooked  stick,  and  reaps  with  a scythe  of  the  Father 
Time  type.  Women  winnow  the  grain  in  sieves  by  hand. 
The  bullock  has  not  yet  been  displaced  by  the  tractor. 

There  are  at  present  five  Government  agricultural  col- 
leges and  two  schools  with  a total  of  448  pupils.  The 
curriculum  is  being  revised  to  meet  the  needs,  the  three- 

1 Report  on  Indian  Constitutional  Reforms,  1918,  p.  150. 


EDUCATION  AND  DEMOCRACY  1 53 

year  course  has  been  shortened  to  two  years,  and  there  is 
an  effort  to  popularize  the  work. 

The  Indian  Year  Book,  reviewing  the  work  of  the  Ag- 
ricultural Departments,  mentions  the  introduction  of  mod- 
ern implements  and  machinery  as  one  of  their  chief  func- 
tions and  remarks,  “ In  some  provinces  iron  plows  are  be- 
coming very  popular.”  Harrows,  cultivators,  and  clod 
crushers  have  also  been  introduced. 

Mr.  James  McKenna,  Director  of  Agriculture  in 
Burma,  in  a review  of  agricultural  progress  during  the 
last  ten  years,  mentions  the  substantial  work  accomplished 
in  such  important  crops  as  wheat,  cotton,  rice,  sugar-cane 
and  tobacco.  He  estimates  that  the  work  of  the  De- 
partment has  already  produced  an  increase  of  at  least 
$1 1,000,000  a year  in  the  value  of  India’s  crops. 

Public-spirited  landholders  have  taken  the  initiative  on 
their  own  account  in  bringing  new  methods  into  India. 
There  are  scores  of  young  Indians  in  America  to-day, 
studying  at  our  agricultural  colleges.  A Bengalese,  who 
owns  several  thousand  acres,  sent  his  son  to  the  Univer- 
sity of  Illinois,  where  he  made  a special  study  of  agricul- 
ture. The  son  is  now  back  at  home  managing  an  ex- 
periment farm,  where  he  tries  out  improved  methods  and 
tests  new  crops  for  their  adaptability  to  Indian  soil. 
For  the  benefit  of  his  peasant  neighbors  he  has  a farm 
laboratory,  with  a small-scale  county  fair  exhibit  of  fruits, 
vegetables,  and  grains  under  varying  conditions. 

At  first  peasants  are  very  skeptical  about  these  new 
fangled  notions,  but  their  curiosity  is  piqued.  They  pot- 
ter about  evenings,  and  in  their  spare  time,  examining  the 
innovations  with  that  slow,  ambling  scrutiny  of  the  prim- 
itive mind.  A side  hill  plow  or  a thresher  will  hold  their 
attention  for  weeks.  Results  are  too  much  for  them. 


154 


India’s  silent  revolution 


When  before  their  eyes  they  see  the  quality  of  product 
and  the  rate  of  speed  and  economy  of  the  new  methods, 
they  gradually  surrender. 

The  Maharajah  of  Gwalior  allows  Samuel  Higginbot- 
tom  a budget  of  $25,000  a year  for  his  work  in  that  state, 
and  a government  farm  of  275  acres  serves  as  an  experi- 
ment and  demonstration  station.  Higginbottom  insists 
on  absolute  democracy  in  his  school,  and  young  nobles, 
outcastes,  and  landowners  sit  side  by  side.  A wealthy  In- 
dian prince  came  bringing  a retinue  of  servants  and  a pri- 
vate secretary  to  take  notes  for  him.  Higginbottom  set 
the  prince  to  work  carrying  fodder  to  the  silage  cutter. 

Saint  Nihal  Singh  in  an  article  on  “ Recent  Educational 
Progress  in  India  ” 1 gives  the  most  recent  statistics  avail- 
able on  the  subject  of  education.  He  says  that  the  Brit- 
ish Government  is  now  spending  only  1^/2  cents  per 
head  on  the  education  of  children  in  India;  that  four  in 
every  five  villages  lack  educational  facilities  of  any  kind; 
that  80  per  cent,  of  the  children  of  school  age  are  receiv- 
ing no  instruction. 

He  asserts  that  the  native  states  are  much  further  ad- 
vanced than  the  British  provinces,  and  gives  figures  to 
prove  the  point.  In  Mysore,  with  a population  of  six 
million,  and  an  annual  revenue  of  $9,500,000,  the  Maha- 
rajah has  granted  an  educational  budget  of  $785,000  for 
1916-17.  There  are  5,436  public  institutions  in  the  state, 
including  six  colleges  for  men  and  one  for  women. 
There  are  214,397  pupils,  of  whom  26,371  are  in  the 
secondary  schools,  and  934  in  colleges.  Using  the  Brit- 
ish estimate  of  15  per  cent,  of  the  population  to  find  the 
number  of  school  children,  this  would  give  nearly  24  per 

1 Contemporary  Review,  January,  1918. 


EDUCATION  AND  DEMOCRACY  1 55 

cent,  of  the  children  of  this  state  in  school  as  compared 
with  18  per  cent,  in  the  British  provinces. 

Mr.  Singh  refers  w'ith  pride  to  the  Indian-ruled  prov- 
inces of  Cochin  and  Travancore  in  southern  India,  which 
have  the  highest  percentage  of  literacy  in  the  country  with 
15  per  cent,  of  their  four  million  inhabitants  able  to  read 
and  write. 

Two  policies  in  colonial  education  stand  out  in  sharp 
contrast.  An  administration  undertaking  the  education 
of  an  illiterate  nation  may  begin  by  educating  a few  of  the 
brightest  pupils  found  in  the  easily  accessible  upper 
classes,  fitting  them  for  posts  of  minor  importance  in  a 
scale  gradually  rising  in  dignity,  and  trusting  that  this 
education  sprinkled  over  the  top  will  gradually  sift 
though  to  the  layers  beneath. 

Or  it  may  begin  at  the  bottom  with  as  nearly  universal 
free  compulsory  education  as  the  financial  system  will  per- 
mit, and  with  main  emphasis  on  the  extension  of  this  ele- 
mentary campaign,  to  wipe  out  illiteracy,  before  the  finer 
details  of  university  training  are  added. 

Universal,  free,  compulsory  education  is  our  American 
ideal.  We  have  tried  to  apply  it  in  the  Philippines,  and 
though  in  the  sixteen  years  from  the  creation  of  Amer- 
ican commission  government  in  the  Islands  until  the 
passage  of  the  Jones  Bill  we  had  not  been  able  to  work 
it  out  completely,  we  made  good  progress. 

The  British  in  India,  while  referring  to  this  principle 
from  time  to  time,  have  followed  quite  the  opposite 
method.  Emphasis  has  been  placed  on  universities  and 
the  winning  of  degrees.  British  practice  in  colonial  ed- 
ucation was  fairly  phrased  by  Lord  Milner  waiting  of 
“ England  in  Egypt,’’  when  he  said,  “ Even  now,  a great 
crowd  of  scholars  is  not  the  thing  to  aim  at,  but  rather 


156  India’s  silent  revolution 

the  thorough  training  of  a limited  number.  The  Gov- 
ernment is  still  far  from  being  in  a position  to  offer  a 
decent  education  to  the  majority  of  the  inhabitants.  . . . 
Egypt  has  yet  to  create  a native  professional  class. 
When  these  urgent  needs  have  been  supplied  it  will  be 
time  enough  to  think  of  general  public  instruction.’’ 1 

As  opposed  to  this,  American  policy  is  fittingly  summed 
up  in  a sentence  by  Judge  Charles  Burke  Elliott  of  the 
Philippine  Commission  : “ A country  reflects  its  national 

ideals  in  its  methods  of  colonization.  The  American  pol- 
icy rests  on  the  principle  that  the  solution  of  economic 
and  political  problems  will  be  found  in  the  general  edu- 
cation of  the  mass  of  people.  An  ignorant  people  will 
always  be  an  incapable,  inefficient  and  an  oppressed  peo- 
ple. The  higher  education  of  the  select  few  will  never 
save  a democracy.”  2 

Results  in  the  two  countries  offer  an  interesting  com- 
parison. In  the  sixteen  years  of  our  commission  gov- 
ernment in  the  Philippines,  from  1900  to  the  passage  of 
the  Jones  Bill  in  1916,  50  per  cent,  of  the  children  in  the 
Philippines  had  been  put  to  school.  In  India  to-day, 
after  an  administration  of  over  a century,  only  20  per 
cent,  of  Indian  children  are  in  school.3  There  is  but  one 
school  for  every  seven  towns  and  villages. 

India  is  of  course  a tremendously  larger  problem  than 
the  Philippines.  There  are  less  than  a million  and  a half 
children  of  school-going  age  in  the  Islands,  against  some 
forty-seven  million  in  India.  It  is  more  than  a difference 
of  policy  between  the  two  countries,  however;  it  is  a dif- 
ference of  philosophy. 

1 Alfred  Milner,  “England  in  Egypt,”  p.  373. 

2 “ The  Philippines  to  the  end  of  Commission  Government,”  p.  219. 

3 Government  Report  on  Education,  1915-16. 


EDUCATION  AND  DEMOCRACY 


lS7 


Even  to-day,  thoughtful  Britishers  question  the  ex- 
pediency of  general  elementary  education,  and  they  pro- 
test vehemently  against  making  it  free.  If  a child’s 
parents  are  not  sufficiently  interested  in  his  education  to 
pay  for  it,  the  answer  is,  don’t  educate  him. 

Lord  Ellenborough  Viceroy  of  India  in  1842,  phrased 
the  extreme  conservative  attitude  in  the  matter  when  he 
said  that  he  regarded  “ the  political  ruin  of  England  as 
an  inevitable  consequence  of  the  education  of  the  Hindu.” 
Eighteen  forty-two  is  a long  time  ago.  But  plenty  of 
present-day  reactionaries  are  still  living  in  that  era. 

Compulsory  and  universal  elementary  education  is  the 
question  of  the  hour  in  India  to-day.  Progressive 
Indians  have  grasped  its  importance,  and  are  arguing  it 
pro  and  con.  As  far  back  as  1913,  the  late  Mr.  Gokhale 
introduced  a resolution  before  the  Viceroy’s  council  for 
establishing  free  and  compulsory  education  by  local 
bodies.  Government  opposed  it,  and  it  was  suggested 
that  the  matter  be  taken  up  by  local  provincial  councils. 
That  shelved  the  matter  temporarily,  but  it  has  recently 
been  revived  by  the  Bombay  Legislative  Council  who  have 
passed  an  Act  making  education  compulsory  for  boys 
and  girls  from  six  to  eleven  years  of  age.  This  act 
has  been  modified  by  the  Government  to  permit  any  mu- 
nicipality to  make  primary  education  free,  but  not  com- 
pulsory, provided  it  will  meet  one-half  the  expense,  Gov- 
ernment to  meet  the  other  half. 

In  the  main,  audible  Indian  opinion  endorses  the  ex- 
tension of  compulsory  elementary  education.  Nearly  all 
conferences  and  conventions  pass  resolutions  in  its  favor, 
and  even  outcastes  talk  about  it  at  their  meetings.  There 
is  Indian  opposition  to  deal  with,  however ; the  selfish  op- 
position of  vested  economic,  social,  and  religious  interests. 


India’s  silent  revolution 


158 

A petition  lately  presented  to  the  government  of  Behar 
and  Orissa,  protesting  against  a primary  education  bill 
introduced  in  the  last  session  of  their  legislative  council, 
is  signed  by  11,000  persons,  including  the  Maharajah  of 
Durbhunga,  one  of  the  wealthiest  landholders  in  India,  the 
Maharajah  of  Hutwa  and  other  powerful  landlords. 
They  protest  first  on  the  ground  that  it  would  interfere 
with  the  employment  of  children  for  agricultural  labor, 
“ thus  seriously  affecting  the  economic  condition  of  the 
people.”  Of  course  they  do  not  add  that  wages  to  adults 
for  the  work  the  children  are  now  doing  would  have  to 
come  out  of  their  own  pockets,  a fact  which  is  the  obvious 
cause  of  the  huge  petition. 

Caste  and  purdah  are  also  obstacles.  They  argue  that 
it  would  be  impracticable  to  provide  separate  schools  for 
the  untouchables  in  every  area,  and  that  it  would  be 
“ repugnant  to  the  social  customs  and  religious  scruples  of 
the  people  ” to  permit  their  children  to  attend  a mixed 
school.  In  strict  purdah  homes,  little  girls  are  not  al- 
lowed to  go  out  of  their  houses  after  they  are  seven  years 
old ; “ they  cannot  therefore  attend  purdah  schools,  even 
if  established  in  the  same  village  in  which  they  reside. 
Further,  it  will  be  quite  impossible  to  arrange  for  the  com- 
pulsory education  of  such  girls  at  home.”  In  conclusion, 
they  fall  back  upon  the  good  old  principle  of  democracy, 
and  protest  against  compulsion  with  transparent  insincer- 
ity. “ Neither  landlords  nor  tenants  like  the  idea  of 
compulsion  in  education,  not  because  they  do  not  appre- 
ciate the  advantages  of  education,  but  because  in  the  con- 
servative conditions  of  Behar,  universal  compulsion 
would  be  resented  by  the  people,  and  regarded  as  an  in- 
terference with  their  social  and  religious  life.” 

Caste  is  a tremendous  obstacle  to  advance.  In  south- 


EDUCATION  AND  DEMOCRACY 


T59 


ern  India  where  feeling  runs  highest,  separate  schools 
have  sometimes  been  provided,  but  this  is  not  encouraged. 
Youth  itself  is  often  reactionary.  The  young  men  of 
Tipon  College  last  year  managed  to  have  their  dining 
hall  partitioned  off  so  that  the  castes  would  not  have  to 
eat  together,  and  this  is  in  a college  founded  by  Surendra- 
nath  Banerjea,  a leading  Indian  reformer,  twice  pres- 
ident of  the  National  Congress!  Similar  incidents  occur 
constantly. 

A defense  of  caste  recently  published  in  the  Pall  Mall 
Gazette  called  forth  an  apt  quotation  of  Huxley’s  state- 
ment of  educational  ideals  which  is  most  applicable  to 
India.  Harendranath  Maitra  wrote  praising  caste  as 
compared  with  the  class  distinctions  of  the  West,  “ based 
on  money  and  power  instead  of  on  learning,  discipline, 
and  spiritual  wisdom.  By  caste  India  solved  the  prob- 
lem of  the  mingling  of  various  races  which  the  West 
solved  by  extermination  or  slavery.”  In  reply,  a “ Mod- 
erate Indian  ” objected  that  learning,  discipline,  and  spir- 
itual wisdom  are  not  open  to  all  India  — that  if  a Sudra 
recites  Vedas  his  tongue  is  to  be  cut  out.  He  added, 
“ that  is  quite  different  from  the  principle  that  is  upheld 
in  the  materialistic  west  where,  according  to  Professor 
Huxley,  * our  business  is  to  provide  a ladder  reaching 
from  the  gutter  to  the  university,  along  which  every  child 
in  the  three  kingdoms  should  have  the  chance  of  climbing 
as  far  as  he  is  fit  to  go.’  ” 

In  spite  of  all  handicaps  of  caste  and  prejudice,  the  na- 
tive states  where  initiative  must  come  from  Indians  them- 
selves, make  a favorable  showing  on  the  question  of  com- 
pulsory education.  The  Gaekwar  of  Baroda  — stock 
example  of  Indian  progress  — was  a pioneer  in  the  mat- 
ter. In  1905  he  passed  an  act  extending  free  compul- 


i6o 


India’s  silent  revolution 


sory  education  to  all  parts  of  his  state,  excepting  certain 
very  backward  tracts.  In  1910  he  gave  his  educational 
department  orders  to  open  primary  schools  wherever  it 
was  possible  to  gather  together  fifteen  children. 

In  Mysore,  another  native  state,  elementary  education 
has  been  made  compulsory  in  nearly  100  centers,  and  is 
being  steadily  extended,  inadequacy  of  accommodations 
being  the  only  obstacle.  The  Begum  of  Bhopal  (a 
woman  ruler)  made  the  following  statement  early  in 
1917:  “No  country  or  community  can  aspire  to  a re- 
spectable place  in  the  scheme  of  things  unless  education 
filters  down  to  the  masses.  I have  therefore  resolved  to 
introduce  free  and  compulsory  education  in  the  State  at 
as  early  a date  as  possible.”  The  native  princes  of 
Bahore  and  Indore  are  also  introducing  compulsory  ele- 
mentary education. 

The  most  recent  statement  of  the  British  Government’s 
position  is  to  be  found  in  the  education  sections  of  the 
Joint  Report  on  Constitutional  Reforms  by  the  Secretary 
of  State  and  the  Viceroy.  This  is  not  only  the  most  im- 
portant and  authoritative  utterance  on  education,  but  it  is 
probably  the  most  general  official  report  ever  made  on  the 
subject.  The  authors  admit  criticism  of  British  policy 
with  disarming  frankness,  and  undertake  to  answer  it. 

“ Government  is  charged  with  neglect,  because  after  60 
years  of  educational  effort,  only  6 per  cent,  of  the  pop- 
ulation is  literate,  while  under  4 per  cent,  of  the  total  pop- 
ulation is  undergoing  instruction.  It  is  charged,  on  the 
other  hand,  with  having  fostered  education  on  wrong 
lines,  and  having  given  to  those  classes  which  welcomed 
instruction  a system  which  is  divorced  from  their  needs, 
in  being  too  purely  literary,  in  admitting  methods  of  un- 
intelligent memorizing,  and  of  cramming,  and  in  pro- 


EDUCATION  AND  DEMOCRACY  l6l 

during,  far  in  excess  of  the  actual  demands  of  Indian 
conditions,  a body  of  educated  young  men  whose  training 
has  prepared  them  only  for  government  service  or  the 
practice  of  the  law. 

“ It  is  sometimes  forgotten  that  the  system  of  English 
education  was  not  forced  upon  India  by  the  Government, 
but  established  in  response  to  a real  and  insistent  de- 
mand, though  a demand  that  proceeded  from  a limited 
class.  Some  of  the  most  difficult  factors  of  the  present 
situation  would  have  been  avoided  if  in  good  time  steps 
had  been  taken  to  prevent  the  wide  divorce  which  has  oc- 
curred between  the  educated  minority  and  the  illiterate 
majority. 

“ The  main  defect  of  the  system  is  probably  the  want 
of  coordination  between  primary  and  higher  education 
. . . while  the  improvement  of  primary  and  middle 
schools  is  the  first  step  to  be  taken,  very  much  remains 
to  be  done  in  reorganizing  the  secondary  teachers  and  in- 
suring for  the  schoolmaster  a career  that  will  satisfy  an 
intelligent  man.”  1 

It  is  significant  that  nowhere  does  this  report  commit 
itself  specifically  in  regard  to  extension  of  primary  edu- 
cation, merely  saying  that  the  main  defect  of  the  system 
is  its  lack  of  coordination  with  higher  education,  and  that 
it  should  be  improved  and  developed. 

The  general  quinquennium  report  on  education  in  the 
United  Provinces  for  1918  puts  an  emphasis  on  the  ex- 
tension of  primary  education  which  suggests  that  the 
Provincial  Government  has  quietly  determined  on  action 
rather  than  words.  The  report  begins: 

“ In  this  quinquennium,  attention  was  directed  chiefly 


1 Report  of  Indian  Constitutional  Reforms,  p.  149. 


162 


India’s  silent  revolution 


to  primary  education.  The  whole  system  of  primary 
education  has  been  revised  with  the  object  of  making  the 
full  primary  course  the  aim  of  all  children  who  undergo 
primary  education  at  all.  Every  district  in  the  province 
has  been  divided  up  exhaustively  into  a number  of  pri- 
mary circles,  each  of  which  is  ultimately  to  contain  a 
school  meeting  the  full  primary  course.” 

British  opinion  has  not  in  the  past  been  receptive  to  the 
theory  of  educating  “ the  masses.”  Vastly  more  pro- 
gressive minds  than  Lord  Ellenborough’s  have  questioned 
the  policy  of  turning  education  loose  upon  an  illiterate 
people.  Anglo-Indians  are  wont  to  explain  away  all  In- 
dian unrest  as  the  result  of  unassimilated  education  on 
a younger  generation.  William  Archer  writes: 

“ Surely  not  without  reason  have  I called  it  a sublime 
inconsistency  which  in  one  breath  complains  of  the  results 
of  education  already  given,  and  proposes  to  extend  it  to 
the  scores  of  millions  as  yet  untouched  by  it.  . . . It  is 
nothing  short  of  madness.  If  a little  knowledge  of  Eng- 
lish has  begotten  the  agitator  and  the  anarchist,  is  it  not 
clear  that  a widespread  ability  to  read  the  vernacular  lan- 
guages will  enormously  increase  the  influence  of  the  mak- 
ers of  political  mischief?  ” 1 

Even  H.  R.  James,  author  of  an  enlightening  and  lib- 
eral book  “ Education  and  Statesmanship  in  India,”  and 
himself  principal  of  the  Presidency  College,  Calcutta, 
questions  the  desirability  of  universal  education : “ The 

success  of  the  great  expansion  of  higher  education  since 
1857  ...  is  not  in  all  aspects  so  clear  and  undoubted 
that  we  can  go  on  lightheartedly  to  take  in  hand  a prob- 
lem of  far  vaster  magnitude  and  potentialities.  Some  of 

1 “India  and  the  Future,”  p.  264. 


EDUCATION  AND  DEMOCRACY  1 63 

the  results  of  higher  education  have  been  unanticipated, 
and  have  taken  its  well  wishers  by  surprise.  We  did  not 
know  what  the  economic  results  of  higher  education 
would  be;  we  did  not  know  what  the  political  results 
would  be.  Are  we  sure  we  can  gauge  all  the  conse- 
quences of  universal  mass  education  and  that,  if  we  could, 
we  should  welcome  them  all  ?”  1 

These  writers  seem  to  forget  the  adage,  “ A little 
knowledge  is  a dangerous  thing.”  If  education  has  really 
augmented  discontent  and  rebellion  in  India,  it  may  be 
more  logical  to  find  the  cause  in  the  superficiality  of  the 
education  given  rather  than  in  quarreling  with  the  in- 
tegrity of  education  itself. 

War-time  England  created  a different  temper.  Her- 
bert Fisher’s  education  bill,  introduced  in  the  House  of 
Commons  in  August,  1917,  provided,  among  other  things, 
for  universal,  compulsory  education  from  the  completion 
of  the  elementary  school  course  to  the  age  of  eighteen ! 
This  is  going  the  republican  United  States  one  better,  for 
even  here  we  only  make  school  compulsory  up  to  fourteen 
years. 

What  the  Britisher  has  been  wont  to  call  education 
above  a man’s  station  in  life  is  something  perilously  akin 
to  what  the  American  considers  one  of  the  fundamental 
privileges  of  democracy.  Our  old  declaration  that  all 
men  are  created  equal  has  been  by  pretty  general  consent 
interpreted  to  read,  all  men  ought  to  have  an  equal  start 
and  opportunity.  And  in  the  United  States,  though  the 
war  has  revealed  to  us  the  disheartening  fact  that  we  still 
have  five  million  illiterates  in  this  country — four  million 
of  whom  are  native-born  — it  is  our  ideal  not  to  let  the 

1 “ Education  and  Statesmanship  in  India,”  p.  98. 


164 


India’s  silent  revolution 


accident  of  birth  make  any  more  difference  than  can  be 
helped  in  the  running  start  we  give  a boy  or  girl. 

This  does  not  at  all  mean  educating  a person  above 
any  position  in  life.  It  does  mean  giving  a new  dignity 
to  labor  and  equipping  each  one  to  take  an  intelligent  in- 
terest in  his  work.  As  Samuel  Gompers,  arguing  for  a 
liberal  rather  than  a purely  vocational  education  for  chil- 
dren of  the  working  class,  said:  “ The  girl  whose  job 

is  to  work  day  after  day  at  one  power  machine  needs  the 
fortifying  influence  of  this  previous  training  to  save 
her  soul  from  becoming  dwarfed  and  stunted  and  in- 
growing as  a result  of  that  specialized  kind  of  work.” 

The  revolution  of  all  standards  set  in  motion  by 
the  war,  has  brought  this  matter  of  compulsory  elemen- 
tary education  to  world-wide  attention.  The  Commis- 
sioner of  Education  for  the  United  States  in  his  annual 
report  wrote : 

“ A world-wide  movement  to  perfect  the  whole  scheme 
of  public  education  is  resulting  from  the  war.  The  fact 
that  this  movement  is  being  carried  forward  even  while 
the  nations  are  engaged  in  the  exhausting  conflict  shows 
the  changed  conception  of  the  social  worth  of  education. 
The  time  is  past  when  education  could  be  considered  a na- 
tional luxury ; it  is  now  regarded  as  a primary  necessity 
of  national  life,  and  the  most  striking  illustrations  of  this 
new  conception  are  offered  by  the  events  that  have  taken 
place  during  the  war. 

“ France  and  England  are  engaged  in  a simultaneous 
reorganization  of  their  respective  systems  of  public  edu- 
cation, and  the  continuation  school  projects  now  pending 
in  the  parliament  at  Paris  and  London  are  essentially 
identical.  They  both  introduce  universal  compulsory 
continuation  schooling  of  general  and  vocational  charac- 


Instead  of  staying  home  behind  closed  doors  the  new  woman  rides 
forth  by  her  husband’s  side  on  the  snorting  motor  cycle 

While  the  modern  school  trains  the  mind  and  wakes  the  soul,  it 
also  develops  the  physique 


EDUCATION  AND  DEMOCRACY  165 

ter.  The  English  bill  provides  in  addition,  for  an  exten- 
sion and  perfection  of  elementary  school  compulsion.”  1 

Its  children  are  the  paramount  interest  of  any  nation. 
They  are  its  principal  resource.  By  the  time  a generation 
is  old  enough  to  think  very  consciously  about  itself,  it  is 
practically  past  help.  “ Shades  of  the  prison  house  ” are 
already  closing  in.  It  may  well  concentrate  its  efforts 
upon  those  who  are  to  follow. 

India  stands  in  pressing  need  of  many  social,  economic, 
and  religious  reforms.  But  the  most  hopeful  and  con- 
structive task  before  her  lies  in  giving  the  babies  of  to- 
day a fair  start,  and  as  nearly  as  this  life  will  permit  — an 
equal  start.  They  are  to  come  to  manhood  and  woman- 
hood in  a new  world,  a world  cleansed  and  purified  by  the 
great  winds  of  democracy  and  freedom,  at  the  cost  of  gi- 
gantic sacrifice.  It  would  seem  a small  thing  in  com- 
parison with  the  billions  which  have  been  so  unhesitat- 
ingly poured  out  for  destruction  and  defense,  to  draw 
up  a program  of  universal  elementary  education  for  all 
those  countries  which  have  shared  the  burdens  of  ridding 
the  world  of  the  great  powers  of  autocracy  and  barbarism. 

In  this  at  least,  all  India  meets  on  a common  plane. 
Outcastes,  women,  Brahmans,  all  — their  hope  of  prog- 
ress and  achievement  is  conditioned  upon  that  privilege 
which  should  be  an  inalienable  human  right  — the  great 
gift  of  education. 

1 Report  Commissioner  Education,  1917,  vol.  I,  p.  71. 


VIII 


MOVING  TOWARD  HOME  RULE 

It  was  President  Wilson  who  christened  the  war  for 
democracy.  Eagerly  the  nations  of  the  Old  World  took 
up  the  term,  and  when  Russian  autocracy  collapsed,  giv- 
ing the  Allies  more  consistent  title  to  the  phrase,  it  be- 
came in  truth  a ranging  of  the  democratic  powers  of  the 
world  against  the  great  surviving  tyranny. 

Even  before  the  war,  a movement  toward  more  repre- 
sentative government  was  under  way  throughout  the 
Orient.  It  is  significant  that  in  1905,  the  year  memor- 
able for  Japan’s  victory  over  Russia,  China  appointed  a 
commission  to  study  governments  in  other  countries,  and 
a few  years  later  threw  out  her  ancient  dynasty  in  favor 
of  a republican  form  of  government.  About  the  same 
time  the  Young  Turks  deposed  their  sultan  and  seized 
the  government,  and  a little  later  the  Shah  of  Persia  was 
overthrown.  The  King  of  Siam  has  as  his  confidential 
adviser  — an  American.  Even  Japan,  in  spite  of  her  au- 
tocratic reputation,  is  represented  by  higher  and  lower 
houses  and,  much  as  in  England,  her  ministry  practi- 
cally depends  on  majority  support.  Premier  Hara  is  a 
self-made  man,  having  begun  life  as  a newspaper  re- 
porter. 

America’s  experience  with  the  Philippines  has  been 
closely  watched  throughout  the  Orient,  and  it  has  come 
to  wield  an  important  influence.  For  American  colonial 

166 


MOVING  TOWARD  HOME  RULE 


167 


policy  as  worked  out  in  the  Philippine  archipelago  is  a 
new  thing  under  the  Oriental  sun.  It  was  just  sixteen 
years  from  the  end  of  martial  law  in  the  Islands  to  the 
passage  of  the  Jones  Bill.  In  those  sixteen  years,  Ameri- 
can Commission  Government  paved  the  way  for  the 
Jones  Bill,  which  gives  to  the  Filipinos  popular  election 
of  both  their  upper  and  lower  houses,  except  for  half  a 
dozen  Senators  representing  a small  group  of  uncivilized 
and  remote  islands,  whose  inhabitants  are  still  practically 
savages. 

The  Governor-General  and  Justices  of  the  Supreme 
Court  are  still  appointed  by  the  President.  But  the 
Filipino  legislature  has  power  to  carry  a measure  over  the 
Governor's  veto  by  a two-thirds  majority,  when  it  must 
be  referred  to  the  President  for  final  action.  The  Fili- 
pino legislature  also  has  advisory  power  in  appointments 
made  by  the  Governor-General,  and  has  direct  control  of 
all  departments  except  that  of  Public  Instruction,  which 
includes  the  Bureaus  of  Education  and  Health. 

Retention  of  schools  in  the  hands  of  the  American  Gov- 
ernor-General is  significant.  The  United  States  feels 
that  the  consistent  development  of  her  educational  policy 
is  so  vital  to  the  progress  of  the  Islands,  that  in  that  re- 
spect she  is  not  willing  to  allow  even  a chance  of  tamper- 
ing with  the  present  system. 

Her  educational  policy  is  the  secret  of  the  United 
States’  rapid  achievement  in  the  Philippines.  Education 
has  been  a primary  consideration,  and  education  that  be- 
gan, not  at  the  top  to  train  a small  office  holding  oligarchy, 
but  one  that  began  at  the  bottom  and  worked  up. 

The  process  of  adjustment  to  war  problems  brought  it 
home  to  our  Allies,  more  especially  to  Great  Britain,  that 
this  title  of  fighting  for  democracy  involved  broad  respon- 


1 68  India’s  silent  revolution 

sibilities,  not  only  in  guaranteeing  self-determination  to 
small  nations,  but  in  extending  democracy  within  her  own 
Empire. 

It  was,  perhaps,  prevision  of  all  this  which  speeded  up 
consideration  of  constitutional  reform  in  India  by  the 
British  Government.  The  last  reforms  were  the  famous 
Morley-Minto  measures  of  1909.  These  were  the  first 
important  changes  in  the  Indian  Constitution  since  1858, 
the  year  following  the  Indian  Mutiny,  when  the  Crown 
took  over  the  government  of  India  from  the  East  India 
Company  with  its  “ Act  for  the  Better  Government  of 
India." 

Lord  Morley  includes  in  his  “ Recollections  ’’  many  of 
the  letters  which  he  as  Secretary  of  State  for  India,  the 
final  authority,  under  the  King  on  the  administration  of 
Indian  affairs  in  London,  wrote  to  the  Viceroy,  Lord 
Minto,  Governor-General  in  India.  These  letters  cover- 
ing the  years  from  1905  to  1910  follow  the  course  of  his 
reforms  from  the  first  nebulous  suggestion  of  their  timeli- 
ness to  the  final  triumphant  announcement  that  they  were 
safely  through  both  Houses.  In  spite  of  the  liberal  repu- 
tation which  Lord  Morley  earned  for  his  administration 
of  Irish  affairs,  he  is  associated  with  sternly  repressive 
measures  in  India  — deportations  without  trial,  and  a 
stringent  muffling  of  the  press  during  those  years  of  vio- 
lent reaction  which  followed  Lord  Curzon’s  regime.  His 
letters,  beside  giving  a fascinating  inside  glimpse  of  the 
wheels  going  round  in  very  high  places  — as  high  as 
Windsor  Castle,  with  familiar  references  to  “ H.  M.” 
(King  Edward)  — also  give  a new  sense  of  humanity 
and  fresh  enthusiasms  to  our  notion  of  statesmanship. 
For,  however  charming  and  delightful  he  may  be  per- 
sonally, the  illustrious  statesman  is  almost  sure  to  present 


MOVING  TOWARD  HOME  RULE  1 69 

to  the  public  the  official  austerity  of  a cold  cog  in  a bureau- 
cratic machine. 

Vividly  Lord  Morley  describes  the  Scylla  and  Charyb- 
dis  which  awaits  every  proposal  of  reform  — a touchy 
“horde  of  old  Anglo-Indians  who  pounce  down  with 
alarmist  letters  ” on  one  side,  and.  on  the  other,  all  the 
subtle  shades  of  Indian  special  interest,  the  Mohammedan 
and  the  Hindu,  high  caste  and  low  caste,  jealousies  be- 
tween provinces  and  native  states.  And  over  all,  the  su- 
preme task  of  suiting  both  the  aristocratic  House  of  Lords 
and  the  democratic  House  of  Commons  with  the  same 
measure. 

“ Nobody,”  Lord  Morley  writes  to  the  Viceroy,  com- 
menting on  the  third  reading  of  the  bill,  “ nobody  could 
possibly  have  produced  a scheme  that  was  open  to  no  ob- 
jections and  criticisms,  and  that  would  please  everybody. 
If  we  had  satisfied  the  Lords  at  every  turn,  we  should 
certainly  have  been  laying  up  trouble  for  ourselves  in  the 
Commons.  You  will  laugh  at  me  as  a horrible  double- 
faced  Janus  for  having  in  one  House  to  show  how  mod- 
erate we  are,  now  in  the  other  to  pose  as  the  most  ultra- 
reformers that  ever  were.  Such  are  what  we  call  tactical 
exigencies.”  1 

Between  the  lines,  one  catches  a winning  picture  of 
Lord  Morley  splendidly  absorbed  in  “ putting  across  ” 
his  ideas ; sounding  Lord  Minto  as  to  how  far  he  will  go, 
preparing  public  opinion,  cajoling  it,  not  daring  to  risk 
antagonizing  it  by  running  too  far  ahead.  And  yet  for 
all  his  liberal  record  in  Ireland,  and  his  more  liberal  vi- 
sion than  his  Indian  office  predecessors,  Lord  Morley  un- 
consciously demonstrated  the  huge  difficulties  of  his  situa- 

1 “ Lord  Morley’s  Recollections,”  p.  301. 


170 


India’s  silent  revolution 


tion  by  rather  inconsistently  dictating  a policy  of  cen- 
tralizing the  final  control  of  Indian  affairs  in  his  own 
Secretary  of  State's  office  in  London.  The  tendency  to- 
day is  to  make  India  more  independent  of  London,  put- 
ting the  Secretary  of  State's  salary  on  the  home  estimate, 
and  increasing  local  Indian  responsibilities  from  the  top 
down. 

Most  of  the  difficulties  which  confronted  Lord  Morley 
in  1909  face  Mr.  Montagu,  the  present  Secretary  of 
State,  in  his  contemplated  reform.  “ That  nervous  per- 
sonage (naturally  nervous),  the  Anglo-Indian,’’  to  quote 
Lord  Morley,  is  still  nervous,  but  Lord  Morley  broke  the 
ice  and  proved  that  liberalizing  the  constitution  was  not 
suicidal.  Conservative  opinion,  both  in  England  and  in 
India,  cannot  be  quite  as  pessimistic  over  further  reforms, 
instinctive  as  their  antagonism  may  be. 

The  difficulties  which  confront  Mr.  Montagu  are  not 
all  of  Anglo-Indian  origin,  however.  The  greatest  diffi- 
culties are  in  India  herself.  For  India  has  her  Ulster 
versus  South  of  Ireland  problem  on  a far  more  widely 
diffused  and  complicated  scale. 

India  is  split  and  stratified  by  numerous  conflicting  ele- 
ments. Nationalists  object  to  the  statement  that  India 
lacks  unity.  The  Indian  press  has  an  apt  name  for  it  — 
the  fissiparous  tendencies  of  Indian  life.  The  important 
split  politically,  which  corresponds  most  nearly  to  the 
Ulster  situation,  is  the  colony  of  sixty  million  Mohamme- 
dans, constituting  a unit  quite  independent  of  the  Hindus. 
The  Hindu  community  itself  is  by  no  means  a unit.  It  is 
crisscrossed  by  innumerable  stratifications  and  divisions, 
like  a piece  of  crackle  china. 

India  rivals  the  Tower  of  Babel  for  diversity  of  lan- 
guages. Excluding  dialects  and  patois,  there  are,  ac- 


MOVING  TOWARD  HOME  RULE  171 

cording  to  Professor  Pratt  of  Williams  College,  eighty- 
seven  vernaculars  so  distinct  that  they  may  be  classified 
as  separate  languages.  The  Encyclopedia  Britannica 
gives  a list  of  one  hundred  and  forty-seven  vernaculars. 
As  the  Government  has  required  English  in  the  schools 
and  made  it  the  official  language,  it  is  the  one  common 
medium  of  expression,  and  when  Indians  meet  in  congress 
or  conference  they  usually  speak  English  rather  than  at- 
tempt to  interpret  the  various  vernaculars. 

Caste  lines  divide  the  orthodox  Hindu  community  into 
innumerable  exclusive  segments.  India’s  variety  of  re- 
ligions causes  another  divergence  of  interest.  India  has 
been  called  the  Mother  of  Religions.  In  spite  of  intoler- 
ance between  castes,  the  Hindu  shows  a philosophical 
tolerance  of  alien  philosophies  which  has  made  India 
friendly  ground  for  harboring  foreign  systems  of 
thought.  Two  of  the  most  important  creeds  in  history 
were  created  in  India,  and  from  there  have  spread  out  all 
over  the  world  — Hinduism  and  Buddhism,  together 
numbering  some  three  hundred  and  fifty  million  follow- 
ers, or  about  one  quarter  of  the  population  of  the  world. 
Jainism  is  also  an  indigenous  religion.  In  addition  there 
are  in  India  several  millions  each  of  Mohammedans, 
Christians,  Sikhs  and  Animists,  and  smaller  communities 
of  Jews  and  Parsis. 

Mohammedans  living  in  India  were  confronted  by  a 
uniquely  difficult  position  at  the  beginning  of  the  war. 
Never  before  in  all  history  had  a Muslim  fought  against 
his  own  people.  Germany  having  Turkey  on  her  side, 
counted  on  causing  England  great  embarrassment 
through  a Holy  War  propaganda.  From  the  beginning, 
Indian  Mohammedans  did  not  waver  in  their  allegiance 
to  the  Crown.  In  fact,  owing  to  internal  politics,  the 


172 


India’s  silent  revolution 


British  can  usually  rely  upon  Muslim  loyalty  more  im- 
plicitly than  Hindu.  For  Mohammedans  being  the  mi- 
nority body,  fear  the  results  of  increasing  home  rule 
in  India,  and  assumption  of  greater  power  by  the 
Hindus. 

The  actual  degree  of  antagonism  between  these  two 
groups  is  a debated  question.  Nationalists  deny  its  im- 
portance. and  claim  that  trivial  friction  has  been  magni- 
fied, in  order  to  foment  discord,  and  prevent  their  putting 
up  a united  front  for  home  rule.  The  Hon.  J.  Ramsay 
MacDonald,  M.P.,  in  his  “Awakening  of  India/'  men- 
tions the  “ suspicion  that  sinister  influences  have  been  at 
work,  that  the  Mohammedan  leaders  were  inspired  by 
certain  Anglo  officials,  and  that  these  officials  pulled  wires 
at  Simla  and  in  London,  and  of  malice  aforethought 
sowed  discord  between  the  Hindu  and  Mohammedan 
communities  by  showing  the  Mohammedan  special  fa- 
vor.” 1 

As  demonstrating  the  harmony  really  existing.  Nation- 
alists point  to  the  election  in  1916  of  a prominent  Moham- 
medan as  President  of  the  Hindu  National  Congress,  and 
to  recent  joint  meetings  of  this  Congress  and  the  All- 
India  Moslem  League.  At  a luncheon  given  by  the  Mos- 
lem League  in  London  to  the  Indian  representatives  of 
the  Imperial  War  Council,  which  included  both  Hindus 
and  Mohammedans,  Sir  S.  P.  Sinha  (now  Lord  Sinha) 
gave  special  emphasis  in  his  speech  to  the  solidarity  of 
the  two.  He  said  that  the  luncheon  itself  was  a testi- 
mony to  the  practical  solidarity  of  Hindus  and  Moham- 
medans in  political  matters,  and  he  added  that  it  was  a 
commonplace  of  Indian  politics  that  India  could  have  no 


1 “ Awakening  of  India,”  p.  283. 


MOVING  TOWARD  HOME  RULE  173 

future  as  a nation  unless  the  two  great  communities 
united  in  whole-hearted  cooperation. 

The  history  of  India  does  not  record  much  unity  of 
control  in  her  past.  Back  in  the  year  one,  when  our  an- 
cestors were  savages  roaming  through  the  forests  of  Eu- 
rope, India  had  a matured  civilization,  with  wealthy  cities, 
monastic  orders  and  flourishing  institutions.  Two  thou- 
sand years  b.  c.  Indian  astronomers  made  fairly  correct 
calculations  of  the  solar  year,  her  mathematicians  had 
devised  a system  of  notation  including  both  fractions  and 
algebra,  she  had  a system  of  medicine,  with  hospitals  and 
dissecting  rooms.  Her  great  epic,  the  Mahabharata, 
comes  down  from  the  year  1200  b.  c.  By  500  B.  c.  there 
was  a well-authenticated  philosophical  system,  and  an  art 
of  music  with  its  seven  notes.  A Sanskrit  grammar  had 
been  compiled  in  b.  c.  350.1  But  even  then,  and  through 
all  the  gory,  succession  of  invasions,  conquests  and  rebel- 
lions since  India  has  been  the  fighting  ground  of  rival 
chieftains  and  hordes  of  invaders.  India’s  Nationalists 
love  to  hark  back  to  her  Golden  Age,  and  she  has  achieved 
heights  of  splendid  grandeur.  But  she  has  known  little 
unity  as  a nation. 

Perhaps  the  most  consistently  important  associations  of 
India’s  past  are  grouped  around  her  capital  city,  Delhi. 
It  was  the  very  heart  of  her  ancient  grandeur,  and  around 
it  center  for  the  patriotic  Indian  a wealth  of  associations 
and  a pride  of  pomp,  such  as  we  with  our  puny  little  his- 
tory reaching  back  less  than  two  centuries  can  scarcely 
imagine.  It  was  a most  strategic  move  when  the  King- 
Emperor,  at  the  time  of  his  coronation  transferred  the 
capital  back  to  Delhi.  All  India  responded  with  a thrill 

1 Price  Collier,  “ The  West  in  the  East,”  p.  136. 


174 


India's  silent  revolution 


of  pleasure  and  pride.  It  was  a tribute  to  her  past,  a 
recognition  by  the  British  Raj  of  her  ancient  splendor 
when  the  Chadni  Chauk  (Silver  Street)  was  famous  as 
the  richest  street  in  the  world,  and  the  glittering  Peacock 
Throne  inlaid  with  diamonds  and  rubies  and  precious 
stones  to  the  value  of  thirty  million  dollars,  was  a by- 
word to  the  very  edges  of  the  civilized  world.  In  that 
Golden  Age  of  the  Past,  Delhi  was  the  capital  of  a suc- 
cession of  kingdoms,  and  her  broad  streets  ran  rivers 
of  blood  as  each  monarch  in  his  turn  went  down  before 
a new  invader. 

Calcutta  has  always  been  an  essentially  British  capital, 
imposed  upon  India  as  a matter  of  British  convenience. 
The  province  of  Bengal  stretches  too  far  to  the  east  to  be 
either  in  position  or  in  spirit  an  integral  part  of  India. 
Moving  the  capital  back  to  Delhi  in  the  heart  of  India 
was  a gracious  concession,  and  a clever  means  of  appro- 
priating the  prestige  and  sentiment  clinging  round  an 
illustrious  and  revered  name. 

India’s  present  administration  is  itself  crossed  by  fis- 
sures, for  not  all  of  India  is  under  direct  British  rule. 
In  this  land  which  equals  about  half  the  territory  of  the 
United  States,  but  has  three  times  our  population,  there 
are  still  some  700  native  states,  under  the  nominal  author- 
ity of  native  Nabobs,  Rajas  and  Begums.  An  English 
official  called  the  Resident,  who  acts  as  advisor  to  the  rul- 
ing Prince,  keeps  each  state  in  close  touch  with  the  Im- 
perial Government.  There  they  are,  however,  these  na- 
tive states,  covering  over  a third  of  the  area  of  India 
and  with  a population  of  seventy  million.  They  consti- 
tute, at  least  potentially,  a very  separate  element  in  the 
life  of  India,  though  their  large  number,  and  the  degree 
of  power  concentrated  in  the  hands  of  the  Resident,  makes 


MOVING  TOWARD  HOME  RULE  1 75 

the  danger  of  their  ever  uniting  in  any  political  plot  neg- 
ligible. 

Sydney  Brooks  sums  up  these  fissiparous  tendencies  in 
sweeping  terms,  and  with  no  qualifications.  He  says 
that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  an  Indian  nation,  an  Indian 
people,  or  an  Indian  consciousness  of  unity  and  solidarity ; 
“ among  its  300,000,000  are  races  as  antagonistic  to  one 
another  as  the  Pole  and  the  Prussian,  or  the  mongoose 
and  the  snake.  The  forty-three  distinct  nationalities  or 
races,  the  nine  main  religions  and  the  one  hundred  and 
eighty-five  languages  and  dialects  are  only  a hint  of  the 
endless  mosaical  complexities  of  India’s  structure.  All 
these  lines  of  division  are  themselves  divided  and  sub- 
divided again  by  the  2500  castes  and  their  offshoots.”  1 

Not  all  authorities  agree  with  Mr.  Brooks.  William 
Archer  in  his  very  interesting  “ India  and  the  Future  ” 
names  one  of  his  chapters  “ The  Unity  of  India,”  and 
argues  that  her  “ chief  misfortune  may  be  found  to  have 
lain  in  the  very  fact  of  her  indisputable  unity,  coupled 
with  her  huge  and  unwieldy  size.  Every  potentate,  na- 
tive or  foreign,  who  achieved  a certain  measure  of 
strength  within  her  borders,  was  irresistibly  tempted  to 
extend  his  sway  over  the  whole  area.”  He  compares 
India  with  Italy,  geographically  similar  in  its  peninsular 
isolation,  but  which  a half  century  ago  was  considered  a 
hopeless  hotch-potch  of  invading  races,  “.  . . that  the 
Neapolitan  could  not  understand  the  Venetian,  the  Cala- 
brian, the  Piedmontese,  and  that  local  jealousies  would 
always  frustrate  the  purely  factitious  aspiration  toward 
unity.  Events  have  shown  that  geographical  unity 
means  much  more  than  the  theorists  were  willing  to  al- 
low.” 

1 North  American  Review,  April,  1916. 


176 


India’s  silent  revolution 


Vincent  Smith,  whose  “ Early  History  of  India  ” is  a 
standard  work,  writes : “ India,  encircled  as  she  is  by 

seas  and  mountains,  is  indisputably  a geographical  unit, 
and  as  such,  is  rightly  designated  by  one  name.  Her 
type  of  civilization,  too,  has  many  features  which  differ- 
entiate it  from  that  of  all  other  regions  of  the  world, 
while  they  are  common  to  the  whole  country  in  a degree 
sufficient  to  justify  its  treatment  as  a unit  in  the  history 
of  the  social,  religious,  and  intellectual  development  of 
mankind.”  1 

Geographically  and  naturally,  India  is  undoubtedly  a 
unit.  But  when  it  comes  to  the  three  chief  forms  of  hu- 
man relationship  — religion,  society  and  government  — 
India  is  fundamentally  divided.  There  is  no  reason  for 
supposing  that  India  cannot  develop  unity  in  the  future. 
In  fact,  this  is  just  what  the  war  has  done  for  her.  It 
has  shocked  her  into  a consciousness  of  her  division,  and 
on  this  new  realization  she  can  build  a firm  and  perma- 
nent structure  of  national  development. 

In  the  United  States  of  America  we  should  be  able 
to  imagine  more  sympathetically  than  anywhere  else  in  the 
world  the  difficulties  with  which  India  and  Mr.  Montagu 
are  confronted.  For  we  know  something  of  the  diffi- 
culty of  federalizing  our  strip  of  North  America.  Al- 
though we  are  a melting  pot  to-day,  we  had  no  such  divi- 
sions of  race,  language,  and  customs  in  our  colonial  days, 
and  yet  we  had  to  come  through  the  bloody  struggle  of  the 
Civil  War  to  achieve  the  unity  of  our  United  States.  We 
are  still  struggling  with  rivalry  between  state’s  rights 
and  Federal  control  every  time  a question  of  national 
importance  arises,  such  as  child  labor,  woman  suffrage,  or 
prohibition. 

1 “ Early  History  of  India,”  p.  5. 


MOVING  TOWARD  HOME  RULE 


177 


The  situation  in  India  is  further  complicated  by  one 
of  the  highest  illiteracy  rates  in  the  world.  This  is  used 
as  a principal  argument  against  giving  India  further  re- 
sponsibility in  her  government.  To  appreciate  the  in- 
tellectual status  of  India,  one  must  consider  more  than 
actual  statistics.  Practically  every  one  — except  the  out- 
castes  — knows  and  can  repeat  long  extracts  from  the 
Vedas.  They  learn  them  from  the  sannyasi,  the  Hindu 
monk,  who,  clad  in  a saffron  robe,  and  a rosary,  and 
carrying  a brass  begging  bowl,  wanders  over  the  coun- 
try, reciting  endlessly  in  a low  sing-song  the  wisdom  of 
the  Vedas,  and  receiving  in  return  scraps  of  food,  a 
few  grains  of  wheat  or  rice,  and  perhaps  a copper  coin, 
all  thrown  indiscriminately  into  his  bowl.  Besides 
the  real  sannyasi,  there  are  a horde  of  sadhus,  self- 
styled  holy  men  who  put  on  a yellow  robe  because  they 
are  too  lazy  and  good  for  nothing  to  work.  The  census 
of  1901  numbered  these  wandering  singers  of  the  Vedas 
at  5,200,000,  a terrific  burden  of  able-bodied  men  for  the 
common  people  of  India  to  feed  and  support.  But  at 
least  they  offer  plenty  of  opportunity  to  learn  the  Scrip- 
ture. 

The  Indian  Nationalist  argues  that  extension  of  re- 
sponsibility in  government  will  stimulate  the  community 
and  raise  all  standards.  His  critic  argues  that  what- 
ever the  defects  of  the  system,  if  the  Indian  had  wanted 
to  read  and  write  badly  enough,  he  would  have  found 
a way,  and  that  until  he  appreciates  literacy  he  is  not 
capable  of  taking  any  greater  part  in  the  administration 
of  his  own  affairs. 

A dramatic  contrast  to  the  great  body  of  300,000,000 
illiterates  is  the  little  group  of  Indian  university  grad- 
uates for  whom  there  are  never  enough  jobs.  Because 


i/8 


India's  silent  revolution 


there  are  few  cities,  meager  native  industries,  and  a con- 
siderable number  of  Englishmen  in  the  government  posi- 
tions, there  are  not  many  opportunities  left  for  ambitious, 
educated  young  Indians.  It  is  increasingly  the  proper 
thing  for  progressive  families  to  send  their  sons  to  col- 
lege. Many  of  these  families  are  poor,  and  make  the 
most  extreme  sacrifices  to  put  their  boys  through.  So 
much  is  a university  degree  prized  that  unsuccessful 
students  frequently  append  to  the  semi-professional  shin- 
gle outside  their  door  the  title,  “ Failed  B.A.,”  as  though 
even  the  attempt  at  a degree  gave  prestige. 

The  results  of  this  smattering  of  education  form  one 
of  the  stock  jokes  in  India.  The  babu  or  clerk  especially 
loves  to  string  together  long  words  and  unfamiliar 
phrases.  One  of  them  is  quoted  as  describing  the  hur- 
ried flight  of  a friend  from  impending  danger  as  having 
“ become  sauve  qui  pent  on  the  spur  of  the  moment.” 
The  ticket  agent  in  a railroad  station  near  Bombay,  tele- 
graphing to  traffic  headquarters  after  a wreck,  wrote: 
“ Much  wreckage.  Fireman  ejected  outwards.  No  lives 
lost,  thank  God,  except  conductor’s  left  eye.” 

The  classic  explanation  of  Indian  unrest  is  to  point  out 
this  group  of  disgruntled  youths  who,  chafing  over  their 
failure  to  win  civil  service  positions,  have  turned  agitator. 
The  “ Failed  B.A.”  may  provoke  a laugh,  but  there  is 
more  pathos  than  humor  about  him.  Critics  of  the  Gov- 
ernment suggest  that  it  would  be  the  part  of  statesman- 
ship, having  created  the  system  which  turns  out  these 
B.A.’s  failed  and  passed,  to  organize  uses  for  them,  espe- 
cially if  there  is  anything  in  the  opinion  that  it  is  from 
these  out-of-jobs  young  men  that  the  discontent  and  un- 
rest of  India  is  recruited. 

We  have  then  in  hasty  outline,  the  high  lights  of  the 


MOVING  TOWARD  HOME  RULE  179 

complexities  which  confronted  Mr.  Montagu  as  he  began 
his  undertaking  to  frame  constitutional  reforms  in  the 
autumn  of  1917.  All  this  network  of  cross  purposes, 
these  divisions  of  language,  religion,  race,  and  caste  pro- 
vided a confusing  medley  against  which  to  work. 

The  most  constructive  note  coming  out  of  India  is  the 
new  spirit  of  nationalism,  which  has  grown  at  a tremen- 
dous rate  in  the  last  decade,  largely  created  by  the  very 
influences  and  culture  which  the  British  themselves  have 
introduced.  When  the  British  Raj  decreed  that  all  edu- 
cation should  be  in  the  English  language,  it  opened  the 
covers  of  a literature  full  of  aspiration  toward  democracy, 
and  a history  of  the  achievement  of  representative  gov- 
ernment by  nations  all  over  the  world.  The  young  In- 
dian has  responded  promptly. 

Lists  of  popular-priced  books  advertised  in  current  In- 
dian magazines  show  what  is  happening.  There  are 
occasional  thrillers,  “ The  Virgin’s  Kiss ; or,  the  Bronze 
Statue,”  printed  in  “ big  type  ” ; but  the  majority  are  of 
a solider  sort:  Darwin’s  “Origin  of  Species,”  Burke’s 

“ Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings,”  Henry  George’s 
“ Progress  and  Poverty  ” and  John  Stuart  Mill’s  “ Po- 
litical Economy.” 

It  is  only  in  the  last  few  years  that  newsstands  have 
made  their  appearance  at  all  the  important  railroad  sta- 
tions of  India.  Before  that,  there  was  not  enough  of  a 
reading  public  to  support  them.  One  of  the  best-sellers 
of  the  Indian  traveling  public  is  a popular  five-cent  edi- 
tion of  biographies  of  all  the  prominent  Indian  political 
leaders,  as  well  as  of  the  great  patriots  of  other  lands, 
especially  those  who  have  led  rebellion  against  oppres- 
sion, as  Mazzini,  Kossuth,  and  Garibaldi. 

The  Morley-Minto  reforms  of  1900  created  a precedent 


i8o 


INDIA’S  SILENT  REVOLUTION 


for  a speedy  demand  for  more  reforms.  The  British 
themselves  realize  quite  well  that  much  of  the  spirit  of 
unrest  in  India  has  been  fostered  by  just  the  degree  of 
democracy  and  self-realization  which  they  have  so  far 
permitted.  And  the  liberal-minded  Englishman  philo- 
sophically realizes  that  this  is  inevitable.  But  the  bureau- 
crat sighs  and  declaims  violently  for  shutting  off  all  rep- 
resentative government,  all  privileges,  even  education  it- 
self, and  reducing  India  to  an  abject  submission,  where 
everything  shall  be  very  efficiently  and  expeditiously  ad- 
ministered for  India’s  benefit  by  an  uninterfered-with 
white  man's  machine. 

The  fact  that  the  Nationalist  movement  owes  as  much 
as  it  does  to  British  liberalism  does  not,  however,  par- 
ticularly simplify  the  situation  for  liberals  to-day,  sand- 
wiched as  they  are  between  an  Oliver  Twist-like  India 
and  a rather  sluggish  British  public  opinion,  which  is  in 
the  main  indifferent ; the  small  informed  and  interested 
element  being  chiefly  Anglo-Indians,  who  are  opposed  to 
change. 

The  history  of  the  Nationalist  movement  in  India  goes 
back  to  the  organization  of  the  National  Congress  in 
1885.  It  was  started  under  the  auspices  of  a Mr.  Hume, 
an  ex-Secretary  of  the  Government  of  India,  who  was  in 
the  confidence  of  the  Viceroy,  Lord  Dufiferin.  In  the  be- 
ginning it  stood  for  an  extension  of  representative  gov- 
ernment within  the  Empire,  and  it  has  never  come  out 
as  a radical  movement.  In  1905,  at  the  time  of  Lord 
Curzon’s  partition  of  Bengal,  when  all  India  was  arguing 
the  adoption  of  a British  boycott  as  a reprisal,  Congress 
split  in  two  over  the  question,  and  a more  radical  left 
wing  was  created. 


MOVING  TOWARD  HOME  RULE 


181 


To-day,  the  Indian  National  Congress  stands  as  a mod- 
erate party,  supporting  British  Government  in  India,  and 
gently  urging  along  whatever  step  of  reform  may  seem 
opportune.  The  Nationalists  have  become  a more  rad- 
ical body.  Mr.  Montagu,  the  new  Secretary  of  State, 
because  of  his  challenging  speeches  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, just  prior  to  his  appointment  in  the  summer  of 
1917,  immediately  became  the  most  conspicuous  figure  on 
the  Indian  horizon.  An  inexpensive,  paper-covered  edi- 
tion of  his  speeches  was  published  in  the  fall  at  fifty-five 
cents,  and  has  sold  by  the  thousands  on  all  the  newsstands. 
His  words  disparaging  the  old  order  have  been  reprinted 
and  repeated  infinitely,  and  have  called  up  vivid  hopes  and 
wild  dreams  in  Indian  hearts.  In  his  famous  House  of 
Commons  speech,  he  said : “ I tell  this  House  that  the 

statutory  organization  of  the  India  Office  produces  an 
apotheosis  of  circumlocution  and  red  tape  beyond  the 
dreams  of  any  ordinary  citizen.  ...  I am  positive  of 
this,  your  great  claim  to  continue  the  illogical  system  of 
Government  by  which  we  have  governed  India  in  the  past 
was  that  it  was  efficient.  It  has  been  proved  not  to  be 
efficient.  It  has  been  proved  to  be  not  sufficiently  elastic 
to  express  the  will  of  the  Indian  people;  to  make  them 
into  the  warring  nation  they  wanted  to  be.  . . . Believe 
me,  Mr.  Speaker,  it  is  not  a question  of  expediency.  It 
is  not  a question  of  desirability.  Unless  you  are  pre- 
pared to  remodel  in  the  light  of  modern  experience  this 
century-old  and  cumbrous  machine,  then  I believe,  I 
verily  believe  that  you  will  lose  the  right  to  control  the 
destinies  of  the  Indian  Empire. 

“ You  cannot  reorganize  the  Executive  Government  of 
India,  remodel  the  Vice-royalty,  and  give  the  Executive 


1 82 


India’s  silent  revolution 


Government  more  freedom  from  the  House  of  Commons 
and  the  Secretary  of  State  unless  you  make  it  more  re- 
sponsible to  the  people  of  India.” 

Imperial  endorsement  of  the  need  for  constructive 
change  in  India's  constitution  was  given  in  the  summer 
of  1917,  not  only  by  Mr.  Montagu’s  appointment  but 
later  by  an  official  definition  of  the  “ goal  of  Indian  pol- 
icy ” which  has  since  become  a classic  quotation : 

“ The  policy  of  His  Majesty’s  Government  with  which 
the  Government  of  India  are  in  complete  accord,  is  that 
of  increasing  the  association  of  Indians  in  every  branch 
of  the  administration,  and  the  gradual  development  of 
self-governing  institutions,  with  a view  to  the  progres- 
sive realization  of  responsible  government  of  India  as  an 
integral  part  of  the  British  Empire.”  1 

In  this  pronouncement  the  phrase  “ responsible  gov- 
ernment ” became  the  catch  word.  Never  before  had  a 
Secretary  of  State  used  words  which  gave  latitude  for 
such  optimistic  imaginings.  Significance  was  also  given 
to  a message  from  the  King-Emperor  to  the  Indian  peo- 
ple, calling  for  their  cooperation,  in  which  he  implied  a 
promise.  “ The  Empire’s  need  is  India’s  opportunity  ” 
were  his  words. 

Mr.  Montagu  and  his  party  reached  India  in  Novem- 
ber, 1917,  for  a personal  tour  of  investigation  prior  to 
drawing  up  a plan  of  constitutional  reform.  He  de- 
scribes in  his  report  how  he  set  about  his  task:  “We 

began  work  at  Delhi,  and  then  visited  in  turn  Calcutta, 
Madras  and  Bombay,  receiving  deputations  at  each  of 
these  places,  and  giving  interviews  to  representative  men. 
Efforts  have  been  made  to  ascertain  all  shades  of  opin- 

1 Statement  issued  by  Secretary  of  State,  August,  1917. 


George  Gordon,  with  a Lloyd  George  smile.  Prof.  H.  Devadassan,  B.A.,  who  stands  for  in- 
He  is  the  energetic  leader  of  ten  thousand  for-  creased  Indian  responsibility  in  both  church  and 

ward-looking  outcastes  state 


MOVING  TOWARD  HOME  RULE  183 

ion.  . . . On  our  return  to  Delhi  a continuous  series  of 
conferences  began;  there  were  meetings  of  the  Secretary 
of  State  and  those  associated  with  him  and  the  Govern- 
ment of  India;  meetings  with  all  the  heads  of  provinces; 
with  a committee  of  the  ruling  princes;  of  committees 
to  consider  details,  and  frequent  private  interviews  and 
informal  discussions.’’ 

The  deputations  received  and  consulted  by  Mr.  Mon- 
tagu may  be  briefly  classified  in  four  groups.  They  were : 
1,  the  Mohammedans,  of  whom  there  are  sixty  mil- 
lions in  India;  2,  the  high  caste  Hindus;  3,  the  de- 
pressed classes,  the  fifty-three  million  Untouchables ; 4, 
the  domiciled  Anglo-Indian.  This  term  applies  to  the 
Englishman  living  in  India,  whether  officially  as  part  of 
the  government  or  unofficially  in  connection  with  private 
enterprise.  He  is  usually  a pretty  stiff  Imperialist  at 
heart.  Whatever  his  attitude  when  he  lands,  he  grad- 
ually becomes  intolerant  of  most  native  aspirations.  He 
alone  has  taken  a scornful  and  cynical  view  of  Mr.  Mon- 
tagu's mission.  The  London  Times  referred  editorially 
to  “the  British  (in  India)  view  of  him  as  a sinister 
herald  of  changes  which  may  undermine  British  rule.” 

Disregarding  richly  pensioned  rajas,  quite  complacent 
as  to  the  status  quo  and,  at  the  other  extreme,  the  Bol- 
shevik school  of  Nationalists  who  demand  complete  inde- 
pendence, the  current  of  Indian  discontent  centers  round 
ambition  for  a greater  degree  of  representation  in  the 
administration  of  Indian  affairs,  and  progress  toward 
equality  with  Australia,  Canada,  and  the  other  British 
dominions. 

Among  the  host  of  petitions  and  memorials  presented 
to  Mr.  Montagu,  two  programs  of  constitutional  reforms 


184 


India’s  silent  revolution 


stood  out  conspicuously.  The  pioneer  in  all  these  re- 
form schemes  was  Mrs.  Annie  Besant,  famous  as  a 
theosophist,  whose  enthusiasm  for  Hindu  culture  has  led 
her  into  taking  an  increasingly  active  part  in  the  Home 
Rule  movement.  While  Lord  Hardinge  was  Viceroy 
she  seemed  to  enjoy  immunity.  But  no  sooner  had  Lord 
Chelmsford  succeeded  him,  than  in  June,  1917,  Mrs. 
Besant  was  interned  for  disloyal  utterances  and  held  un- 
til September.  She  was  released  on  the  understanding 
that  she  would  refrain  from  further  agitation  while  Mr. 
Montagu  was  making  his  investigation.  It  is  largely,  if 
not  entirely,  as  a result  of  her  internment  that  Mrs. 
Besant  became  so  conspicuous  a figure  that  she  was  elected 
President  of  the  Hindu  National  Congress  in  the  Decem- 
ber following. 

Three  years  ago  Mrs.  Besant  drew  up  a tentative 
scheme  of  reform  for  India.  This  draft,  as  well  as  others 
by  Mr.  Gokhale  and  other  prominent  Indians,  antedated 
the  creation  of  Mr.  Montagu’s  commission.  Undoubt- 
edly they  served  as  straws  in  helping  to  bring  the  matter 
to  consideration.  When  Indian  reform  came  under  offi- 
cial attention  the  authors  of  these  previous  drafts  all 
subscribed  to  a joint  program  drawn  up  by  the  Hindu 
National  Congress,  and  the  All-India  Moslem  League. 
This  was  the  first  of  the  two  important  programs  pre- 
sented to  Mr.  Montagu.  Its  weakness  was  that  it  was 
really  only  an  extension  of  the  political  changes  made 
by  the  Morley-Minto  reforms.  It  was  a natural  lead 
to  follow,  and  one  that  might  logically  be  expected  to  find 
favor  with  British  authority.  But  the  trouble  is  that  the 
Morley-Minto  reforms  lead  up  a blind  alley.  Lord  Mor- 
ley  tacitly  admitted  as  much  in  his  statement:  “If  it 

could  be  said  that  this  chapter  of  reforms  led  directly 


MOVING  TOWARD  HOME  RULE  1 85 

or  indirectly  to  the  establishment  of  a parliamentary  sys- 
tem in  India,  I,  for  one,  would  have  nothing  at  all  to  do 
with  it.”  1 The  present  Secretary  of  State  seems  to 
have  no  compunctions  about  breaking  away  from  prece- 
dent, but  is  willing  to  create  a precedent  of  his  own  for 
Indian  affairs.  The  Congress  League  scheme  was  fur- 
ther weakened  by  an  appended  resolution  asking  the  Gov- 
ernment to  fix  a definite  date  within  which  it  contem- 
plated granting  Home  Rule  to  India.  The  policy  an- 
nounced by  the  Government  was  based  on  “ gradual  de- 
velopment and  progressive  realization  ” conditioned  upon 
the  response  of  Indians  themselves  to  the  measures 
granted. 

The  second  memorial  of  importance  was  a joint  address 
signed  by  a group  of  Indians  and  non-official  Europeans 
resident  in  India.  It  took  more  heed  of  Government 
policy  by  making  the  phrase  “ responsible  government  ” 
its  text. 

When  the  official  report,  so  much  anticipated  finally 
appeared,  there  was  both  relief  and  disappointment.  It 
by  no  means  came  up  to  the  radicalism  of  some  of  Mr. 
Montagu’s  speeches  in  Parliament,  and  conservatives 
drew  a sigh  of  relief.  Sir  Valentine  Chirol  calls  the 
report  the  first  authoritative  review  of  Indian  affairs  since 
the  Mutiny.  In  an  involved  sentence  he  praises  the  very 
feature  of  the  report  which  has  proven  a disappointment 
to  others:  “ Whilst  it  does  not  shrink  from  recommend- 

ing great  changes,  its  masterly  exposition  of  existing  con- 
ditions in  India,  which  are  the  result  of  her  historical 
evolution  from  remote  ages  to  the  present  day,  must  con- 
vince even  the  most  enthusiastic  believer  in  the  saving 

1 Quoted  in  the  Official  Report  by  Secretary  Montagu  and  Lord 
Chelmsford. 


186  India’s  silent  revolution 

virtues  of  democratic  institutions  that  they  can  only  be 
slowly  acclimatized  there.” 

The  most  important  recommendation  in  the  Report  is 
the  bifurcation  of  the  Viceregal  council  which,  in  an 
advisory  capacity  to  the  Viceroy,  stands  at  the  head  of 
the  administration  in  India.  Formerly  in  his  Council 
of  sixty  members  the  Viceroy  has  had  a majority  of  six 
nominated  members  — 33  to  27.  This  majority  is  to  be 
abolished,  and  the  Council  which  will  hereafter  be  called 
the  Legislative  Assembly  of  India  will  number  100  mem- 
bers, with  two-thirds  to  be  elected  by  the  people  them- 
selves. Of  the  one-third  whom  the  Viceroy  nominates 
at  least  one-third  must  be  non-official.  The  second  and 
smaller  chamber,  corresponding  in  a way  to  our  Senate, 
will  retain  an  official  majority,  with  twenty-nine  members 
nominated  and  twenty-one  elected.  It  will  be  the  final 
legislative  body. 

The  addition  of  this  final  safety  brake  is  a great  dis- 
appointment to  radicals.  Even  Lord  Sinha  qualifies  his 
commendation  of  the  Report : “ While  responsible  gov- 

ernment is  not  to  be  granted  at  once,  we  have  the  pledge 
that  substantial  steps  in  that  direction  shall  be  taken  as 
soon  as  possible,”  adding,  “ if  the  scheme  is  carried  out 
and  some  of  its  over  cautious  checks  and  counter  checks 
eliminated,  it  will,  in  my  opinion,  certainly  give  general 
satisfaction  in  India.” 

There  is  to  be  an  extension  of  provincial  autonomy  — 
“ complete  popular  government  in  local  bodies  and  an  in- 
creasing degree  of  responsibility  is  to  be  given  in  the 
provinces.”  They  are  to  have  “ the  largest  measure  of 
independence  — legislative,  administrative  and  financial 
— compatible  with  due  discharge  by  the  Government  of 
India  of  its  own  responsibilities.”  Devolution  of  the 


MOVING  TOWARD  HOME  RULE  1 87 

former  highly  centralized  authority  is  achieved  by  giving 
responsibility  in  certain  subjects  to  be  known  as  trans- 
ferred subjects,  namely  those  “ affording  most  oppor- 
tunity for  local  knowledge  and  social  services,  those 
wherein  Indians  have  shown  themselves  to  be  keenly  in- 
terested, those  wherein  mistakes  which  might  occur  would 
not  be  irremediable,  and  those  which  stand  in  most  need 
of  development.” 

Herein  lies  the  really  constructive  element  in  the  re- 
port, for  these  local  bodies  will  serve  as  training  schools 
of  politics,  in  preparation  for  subsequent  increase  of  re- 
sponsibility. 

It  is  difficult  for  any  one  short  of  an  expert  on  con- 
stitutions to  judge  the  actual  value  of  these  recommenda- 
tions until  they  have  been  demonstrated  in  action.  It 
is  safe  to  say  that  the  report  marks  a complete  reversal 
in  England’s  policy  toward  India.  In  spirit  it  is  genera- 
tions in  advance  of  the  trend  and  humor  of  Lord  Cur- 
zon's  policy.  Far  from  wanting  to  extend  representa- 
tive government,  he  even  abolished  it  where  it  already 
existed,  as  in  Calcutta,  at  that  time  capital  of  India. 
Since  1876  the  Municipal  Council  of  Calcutta  had  con- 
sisted of  seventy-five  members,  with  a majority  of 
twenty-five  elected  by  the  people.  Lord  Curzon  reduced 
the  elected  members  from  fifty  to  twenty-five,  thereby 
giving  the  Viceroy’s  nominated  party,  with  their  official 
chairman's  deciding  vote,  a permanent  majority. 

The  reception  given  to  the  report  has  varied.  Lord 
Morley  has  endorsed  it  from  his  retirement,  Lord  Cur- 
zon is  opposed  to  it  — naturally.  A group  of  Bengal 
landowners,  including  seventeen  maharajahs  and  rajas, 
and  the  leading  citizens  of  the  community  met  in  Cal- 
cutta early  in  September  and  warmly  endorsed  its  pro- 


1 88  India’s  silent  revolution 

posals.  Two  former  presidents  of  the  Indian  National 
Congress  issued  a memorandum  expressing  satisfaction 
with  the  scheme  as  a whole.  They  said  that  “ the  dis- 
tinguished authors  of  the  reform  proposals  deserve  cor- 
dial congratulations.  We  frankly  admit  that  their 
scheme  for  provincial  reconstruction  and  progress  is  su- 
perior to  the  Congress-League  scheme  in  conception  and 
design,  and  possesses  the  merit  which  the  latter  entirely 
lacked,  of  introducing  at  the  start  the  idea  and  begin- 
nings of  responsible  government."  The  Indian  Legisla- 
tive Council  also  endorsed  the  proposals.  The  Indian 
National  Congress  does  not  take  as  friendly  an  attitude. 
A special  session  was  called  to  demand  extensive  changes 
in  the  scheme.  The  Congress  felt  that  the  report  showed 
skepticism  of  the  capacity  of  the  people  of  India,  anxiety 
lest  the  powers  of  the  executive  be  impaired,  and  that  in 
some  cases  it  increased  the  powers  of  the  heads  of  central 
and  provincial  governments. 

The  attitude  of  the  Indian  press  varies  from  apprecia- 
tive hopefulness  to  abuse.  In  a symposium  of  com- 
ments from  twenty-nine  papers  printed  by  the  Indian  So- 
cial Reformer,  eleven  endorse  the  report  more  or  less 
warmly,  nine  are  doubtful  or  non-committal,  and  nine 
are  frankly  opposed  and  disappointed. 

The  Hindu,  Madras,  considers  that  “ the  report  ren- 
ders futile  the  pledges  given  by  His  Majesty’s  Govern- 
ment in  their  pronouncement  of  last  August,  and  it  gives 
an  insulting  response  to  the  Indian  National  demands.” 
The  Servant  of  India,  Poona,  appeals  for  a tolerant  atti- 
tude : “ People  should  remember  that  it  is  a rare  oppor- 

tunity they  have.  To  throw  it  away  would  be  madness. 
Mr.  Montagu  has  taken  uncommon  interest  in  the  ques- 
tion of  Indian  reforms,  and  must  be  enabled  by  our  sym- 


MOVING  TOWARD  HOME  RULE  189 

pathetic  and  reasonable  attitude  to  complete  the  stu- 
pendous task  that  he  has  begun.  . . . What  does  it  mat- 
ter that  it  departs  altogether  from  our  scheme?  It  sub- 
stantially embodies  our  basic  principles  at  the  start  and 
will  effectuate  them  in  full  at  the  culmination.” 

The  moderation  of  this  comment  recalls  that  famous 
paragraph  in  the  constitution  of  The  Servants  of  India 
written  by  Mr.  Gokhale,  in  which  he  “ frankly  accepts 
the  British  connection  as  ordained  in  the  inscrutable  dis- 
pensation of  Providence  for  India’s  good.”  The  satiric 
tang  of  that  inscrutable  dispensation  was,  according  to 
those  who  knew  Mr.  Gokhale,  quite  unintentional. 

The  Times  of  India,  a semi-official  publication,  en- 
larged upon  the  audacity  of  an  attempt  to  “ lay  the 
foundations  of  true  responsible  government  in  India,” 
and  calls  it  a Great  Adventure  such  as  has  never  before 
been  attempted  in  all  Asia. 

It  was  rumored  that  failure  to  let  the  bill  come  up  for 
discussion  in  Parliament  during  the  summer  of  1918  was 
due  to  bitter  opposition  among  Conservatives.  The 
House  of  Commons’  announcement  that  it  was  too  busy 
with  the  war  to  consider  the  plan  came  as  rather  an 
awkward  anti-climax  to  the  resolutions  passed  in  the 
same  month  “ consenting  ” to  India’s  paying  a larger 
share  of  the  cost  of  the  Indian  military  forces,  and  after 
the  opening  of  a new  War  Loan  in  India.  Mr.  Montagu 
bridged  the  gap  with  the  appointment  of  a subsidiary 
committee  to  work  out  the  question  of  electorates  and 
transferred  subjects. 

In  whatever  direction  Parliament  may  ultimately  inch 
along,  the  appointment  of  Mr.  Montagu  and  his  work  in 
drawing  up  the  program  shows  a progress  which  India 
and  India’s  friends  should  not  underestimate.  Fiery 


190  India’s  silent  revolution 

critics  of  Mr.  Montagu,  disappointed  that  he  did  not  in- 
clude more  radical  reforms,  should  face  the  fact  that  the 
present  program  is  having  its  difficulties  in  getting  past 
Parliament,  and  that  anything  more  drastic  probably 
would  not  have  received  serious  consideration. 

Mr.  Montagu  earned  the  support  of  all  friends  of 
India  by  the  ringing  sincerity  of  his  Apologia  for  what- 
ever of  radicalism  and  real  progress  may  be  found  in 
his  recommendations. 

“ Our  reason  is  the  faith  that  is  in  us.  We  have 
shown  how,  step  by  step,  British  policy  in  India  has  been 
steadily  directed  to  a point  at  which  the  question  of  a 
self-governing  India  was  bound  to  arise;  how  impulses, 
at  first  faint,  have  been  encouraged  by  education  and 
opportunity;  how  the  growth,  quickened  nine  years  ago, 
was  immeasurably  accelerated  by  the  war.  We  believe 
profoundly  that  the  time  has  now  come  when  the  shel- 
tered existence  which  we  have  given  to  India  cannot  be 
prolonged  without  damage  to  her  national  life;  that  we 
have  a richer  gift  for  her  people  than  any  we  have  yet 
bestowed  on  them ; that  nationhood  within  the  Empire 
represents  something  better  than  anything  India  has 
hitherto  attained;  that  the  placid,  pathetic  contentment 
of  the  masses  is  not  the  soil  on  which  such  Indian  nation- 
hood will  grow,  and  that  in  deliberately  disturbing  it  we 
are  working  for  her  highest  good.” 

Such  words  from  the  Secretary  of  State  for  India 
commit  the  Government  he  represents  to  a considerable 
degree.  It  would  seem  impossible  to  step  back,  espe- 
cially after  the  decisive  victory  of  the  Allies.  For  after 
all,  whatever  may  have  been  her  traditional  attitude  to- 
ward India,  and  whatever  her  pet  prejudices,  Great  Brit- 
ain has  been  a leader  among  the  Allies,  that  group  of 


MOVING  TOWARD  HOME  RULE  I9I 

nations  who  solemnly  and  earnestly  entered  into  the  most 
terrific  struggle  in  all  history  to  make  the  world  safe  for 
democracy. 

To-day  India’s  future  looks  brighter  than  at  any  pe- 
riod in  her  history.  No  one  can  go  to  India  with  an 
open  mind  and  remain  unconscious  of  the  silent  changes 
which  are  at  work  beneath  the  surface,  slowly  preparing 
India  to  slough  off  the  old  skin  of  superstition  and  ig- 
norance. Simultaneously  the  great  war  opened  the 
hearts  and  minds  of  men  all  over  the  world  to  a new 
vision  of  democracy.  Whitehall  has  given  evidence  of 
its  willingness  to  turn  a corner  in  the  administration  of 
Indian  affairs.  The  Montagu-Chelmsford  program  is 
not  merely  a step  in  advance  of  previous  reforms.  It  is 
something  quite  new  and  different.  If  Parliament  ap- 
proves and  India  accepts  the  principles  expressed  and 
the  plans  outlined  in  the  program,  the  foundation  for 
representative  government  for  India  will  have  been  laid 
deep  and  strong.  It  will  mark  an  epoch  in  Indian  his- 
tory. Of  course  the  program  may  have  to  be  modified 
as  to  method,  but  the  temper  of  the  times  will  make  it 
utterly  impossible  to  satisfy  either  England  or  India,  ex- 
cept by  legislation  of  this  character. 

The  boldness  of  the  task  requires  that  each  side  meet 
the  other  with  sympathy  and  generosity,  with  free  ex- 
pression of  opinion  and  with  honest  intention  to  under- 
stand and  to  play  fair.  Changes  are  already  at  work  in 
both  countries.  The  breaking  up  of  caste,  the  education 
of  women,  extension  of  universal  primary  education,  re- 
adjustment of  the  economic  system,  and,  as  a result  of 
all  these,  a stiffening  up  of  the  will  power  and  initiative 
of  the  individual  Indian,  will  make  a much  less  difficult 
problem  on  the  one  side,  while  the  liberalizing  influence 


I 


192 


India’s  silent  revolution 


of  the  war  and  the  discredit  attaching  to  a selfish  Impe- 
rialism insure  a much  less  difficult  situation  on  the  other 
side. 

A prophetic  paragraph  in  one  of  President  Wilson’s 
messages  phrasing  allied  purposes,  applies  to  India  with 
particular  felicity. 

“ The  Allies  are  fighting  for  the  liberty,  the  self-gov- 
ernment and  the  undictated  development  of  all  peoples, 
and  every  feature  of  the  settlement  that  concludes  this 
war  must  be  conceived  and  executed  for  that  purpose.” 

It  will  not  be  possible  during  the  years  that  lie  ahead 
for  the  Allies  to  discriminate  in  their  application  of 
democracy,  demanding  it  for  the  Occident  and  denying 
it  to  the  Orient.  It  is  a world  ideal,  which  knows  neither 
racial  nor  territorial  boundaries.  Enfranchised  alike  by 
the  silent  and  inevitable  revolution  within  her  own  life 
and  by  the  cooperation  of  the  new  world  created  by  the 
war,  India  may  well  look  confidently  and  hopefully  into 
the  future. 


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and  the  Chinese-Japanese  alliance  for  intervention  in  Siberia. 
Dr.  Wheeler  sets  these  matters  forth  in  a simple,  straight- 
forward fashion  with  many  citations  from  Chinese  papers 
and  documents  which  provide  most  interesting  reading  for 
Westerners. 

The  author  is  a professor  in  Hangchow  Christian  College, 
is  a friend  of  the  Chinese  Republic,  and  writes  with  sym- 
pathy and  understanding  of  Chinese  affairs. 

Foreign  Financial  Control  in  China 

By  T.  W.  OVERLACH 

Cloth,  120,  $2.00 

This  is  a careful  study  of  British,  Russian,  French,  Ger- 
man, Japanese,  and  American  financial  intervention  and 
financial  operations  in  China.  It  is  well  documented  and 
clearly  written.  It  treats  of  a pressing  issue  in  the  Orient 
— one  which  involves  the  United  States  deeply  and  will 
press  to  the  front  after  the  war.  It  is  the  first  consistent 
account  of  the  origin  and  development  of  foreign  control  in 
China.  In  view  of  our  interests  there,  both  practical  and 
political,  and  especially  on  account  of  the  present  crisis  and 
further  impending  crises,  there  is  significance  in  Mr.  Over- 
lach’s  authoritative. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


IMPORTANT  BOOKS  ON  JAPAN 


The  Development  of  Japan 

By  KENNETH  SCOTT  LATOURETTE 

Cloth,  12°,  $1.50 

“This  is  really  a history  of  Japan  from  the  earliest  times  when 
records  were  kept,  to  the  present  day.  It  is  full  of  colourful  in- 
formation, and  traces  the  progress  of  this  beautiful  land  through 
the  centuries  with  a wealth  of  detail  that  perhaps  has  never  been 
given  before  in  a book  written  in  English.  . . . No  one  can  read 
this  clearly  told  history  of  a truly  great  people  without  increased 
admiration  for  a race  which  has  so  rapidly  come  into  the  forefront  of 
the  civilization  and  progress  of  the  world.” — New  York  Times. 

Japan  in  World  Politics 

By  K.  K.  KAWAKAMI 
- Cloth,  12°,  $ 1.50 

“ Few  men  have  a clearer  insight  into  the  problems  raised  by  the 
relations  between  the  United  States,  Japan  and  China  than  K.  K. 
Kawakami.  ...  It  will  do  any  American  good  to  read  Japan  in 
World  Politics,  who  apparently  regards  a settlement  of  the  far  east- 
ern problem  as  an  essential  preliminary  to  the  general  disarmament 
for  which  mankind  longs.” — San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

Studies  in  Japanese  Buddhism 

By  A.  K.  REISCHAUER 

Cloth,  12°,  $2.00 

This  book  is  by  an  American  of  the  Middle  West  who,  for  twelve 
years,  has  been  a professor  of  ethics  and  philosophy  in  a college 
in  Tokyo,  Japan.  The  writer  presents  the  beginning  of  Buddhism 
in  Southern  Asia  and  the  development  of  this  into  the  prevalent 
Buddhism  of  Japan.  The  historic  stages  of  the  northern  religion 
are  carefully  traced,  Buddhistic  books  which  have  won  influence  and 
authority  in  Japan  are  discussed,  and  the  various  religious  denomi- 
nations in  Japan  comprehended  under  Buddhism  are  sketched.  The 
relations  of  the  Christian  churches  in  Japan  to  the  worshipers  of 
Buddha  are  also  pictured. 

The  Faith  of  Japan 

By  Dr.  TASAKU  HARADA 

President  of  Doshisha  University  at  Kyoto 

Cloth,  $1.25 

“ Shintoism,  Confucianism,  Buddhism,  Christianity,  and  even 
Bushido  are  all  interpreted  in  a lucid,  illuminating,  and  fraternal 
spirit.” — The  Independent. 

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